Tomorrow, I'll Miss You
by YahtzeeBitch
Summary: Two halves cannot come together if one of them is already whole. So much has been taken away from her, Alana doesn't think that there is anything that can ever be enough to make her into the person she was before. Maybe she just had to wait for another broken piece to fall into her life. Post CA: TWS. Bucky/OC.
1. Prologue

**Hello my fellow humans! Thanks much for clicking on this story, that's a pretty cool thing for you to do, much appreciated on this end of the computer vortex. I've never written a Captain America story before, so this is my attempt at one. There will be characters from the Avengers as well, as you'll see in this prologue.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of this except for the OC. Everything else belongs to Marvel.**

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_"One day you will do things for me that you hate. That is what it means to be family."_

― Jonathan Safran Foer, Everything Is Illuminated

* * *

"No." She was the only person in the world who would dare say that word to Captain America.

"Alana, please." Steve begged his friend from his spot on her living room couch. She ran a calloused hand through her dark blonde hair, letting out an aggravated breath.

They had known each other for years now.

When Steve Rodgers had woken up from being in the ice for over sixty years, she had been there. She was the one who was sitting by his bedside.

"_Morning, Captain." Gentle words made Steve glance over to his left. His eyebrows coming together in confusion as he saw the young blonde occupying a plastic chair not even three feet away from him._

_Her attire was clearly a uniform of some sort, but Steve had never seen anything like it before, he didn't recognize the emblem on the front either._

"_Where am I?" His words came out slightly panicked as he sat up, and he noticed her muscles tense at his movements. _

"_Easy there Cap, you're fine. Perfectly fine, actually. Let's keep quite, because I'm not supposed to be in here, and I just want to save you some hassle." Her words made him even more confused, and Steve glanced out the window before looking back to her._

"_All do respect ma'am, but who are you?" _

"_Friends call me Alana." She told him, her arms staying crossed over her chest as she spoke slowly, watching his every move for any indication he was going to make a run for it. "And you, you're not in 1940's anymore." _

She had helped him adjust to modern day life after that first day. She had even fought by his side in the Battle of New York two years ago.

Now, Alana would take a bullet for Captain Rodgers in a heartbeat.

She had done that actually… twice, but this? This was something she really didn't want to do for the super soldier.

"I know it's not what you want to do-"

"I wasn't trained to do anything like this." She cut him off, her voice sharp. "I was trained to kill people, Steve. Plain and simple, if you haven't noticed, I'm an assassin. Not a goddamn therapist."

His eyes glanced up and down the woman in front of him. Even through her oversized sweatshirt he could make out the strong muscles that toned her whole body. He knew what she was trained for, had seen it first-hand, hell, he had experienced it first hand as well.

The two sat in silence for a few moments. Alana tried to calm herself down, while Steve tried to collect his own thoughts. Director Fury had recommended Alana for the job, but since he was in hiding in Europe, he asked Steve to make the offer in person. Steve knew Fury could've just asked her over a phone call, he knew she'd been asked to do more than this over a simple phone call. The fact was, Fury knew Alana would listen -more or less- to Steve.

"You helped me." Her head snapped up at his words, her green eyes narrowing at the man who she considers a friend. She rolled her eyes a moment later, letting out a huff.

"That's cheesy." She muttered in a low voice, looking him in the eyes again a moment later, "And this is different."

"How?"

"He's not you, Steve." She pointed out, "He was turned into a weapon, he doesn't know who he even is!"

"Neither did Barton." Steve countered, and she was on her feet in an instant, pacing the floor in front of him. Steve sat back further into the leather couch, knowing she would react like this when he brought up her supervising officer.

Clint Barton being compromised by Loki was one of Alana's worst memories, and even the mention of it brought back the surge of fear. She thought she'd lost him then, and she even still had nightmares about it.

"It's a miracle that he didn't put that bullet through my brain." She remembers how terrified she was in that moment two years ago. Clint not in his own mind, aiming the barrel of a gun down at her head. He was her S.O, her partner, her teacher, and after almost seven years with SHIELD, she considered him a brother. She loved and trusted Clint and he had threatened to end her life.

"_Barton! Clint!" Her throat was closing up and she could feel the tears pricking at the back of her eyes. "Clint, it's me! It's Alana! I know you're in there брат." (brother)_

She had seen the flash of recognition in his eyes when she'd said her nickname for him in Russian. He had fired a few moments later, barely missing her head. That was how she knew she had really gotten through to him.

Barton never missed.

Her eyes drifted to one of the photographs framed and mounted on the wall nearby, and she stopped pacing. It was of her and Barton a few months after she agreed to join SHIELD. Natasha had taken it one night, while the three of them were sitting around in Alana's apartment, which was in the western portion of the Bronx. Clint had a baseball cap on his head and a smirk on his face as he had his arm wrapped around Alana's shoulders.

"I know," Steve nodded, his words brought her attention back to him and away from the picture, "Which is why you'll be able to help this time." Alana let out an indignant noise, her gaze drifting out her living room window, looking out over the Chicago skyline. "You've had experience, and if he relapses-"

"I'll be able to handle him." She finished Steve's sentence, and the super soldier just nodded. "That's what this is really about isn't it? If your friend attacks? Well," Alana let out a sardonic chuckle while she rolled her tense shoulders backwards once to loosen them, "tell me _Captain_, why can't you do it?"

"Did I offend you somehow?" Steve asked, confused at her lashing out at him. He knew it had been coming, but hadn't expected the words to be directed at him specifically. Alana did have a reputation regarding her temper.

"More the whole of SHIELD. They're putting one of their top agents on babysitting duty? I get I've been on leave for the last few months. I couldn't fight, I know that. I just thought they'd have a little more respect for me and put me on an actual mission as my first thing coming back." Alana lets out a breath, composing herself so she doesn't start yelling at Steve.

"I can't," Steve said, answering her previous question, "I can't do it because I was rejected."

"Rejected?"

"SHIELD agreed with Doctor Tracel that my involvement this early on in the recovery may shut him down more. The last time he saw me, he was trying to kill me."

"So I was the next choice?" She asks rhetorically, "Who's next on the list?"

"No one. I want it to be you with him. You know the languages he speaks now, you have experience with compromised soldiers, you can handle yourself." She raised her eyebrows at him, and Steve sat up, resting his elbows on his knees, his hands clasped in front of him, "And I trust you." She lips pulled upwards on one side a little, and Steve smiled, knowing that was a good sign.

"Didn't Fury tell you not to trust anyone?" Steve shrugged his broad shoulders once.

"He mentioned it." he admits, and the woman standing across from him nods knowingly, "Natasha did say you were a good one to trust though."

"She's a bit indebted to that answer." Alana pointed out quickly, walking over to the small kitchen adjacent to the living room and grabbing a glass from the cupboard. "Especially since Madrid."

"What happened in Madrid?" Steve asks curiously, and he gets a smirk and a wink in response.

"That's classified, Rodgers." She tells him through a grin, turning on the faucet and filling her glass with water. "You want a drink?"

"You're avoiding the topic."

"Am I?" She asks with feigned innocence.

"Yes, and I need an answer." She lets out a sigh, turning back to face Steve, leaning back against the granite counter.

"I just hope everyone knows I'm not the same person I was when SHIELD unfroze you from the artic." She tells him, her tone serious again. "Tegucigalpa, Syria, New York, Madrid," She lists off her major missions, hesitating before adding the source of almost all her nightmares, "Batswana."

"There's others back at headquarters who agree with me on this. You're the best choice." Steve stays silent as she mulled his words over in her mind. "We could be in DC and have you debriefed by tomorrow morning."

"And after?" Alana asked carefully, "After this is over?"

"You're full status."

* * *

Alana's boots made her footsteps echo down the halls of SHIELD's new headquarters. The counter-intelligence agency had been forced to downgrade after it was infiltrated by HYDRA and the Triskelion was destroyed. Now, headquarters was based out of one of the emergency offices. An old brick building on the outskirts of the city, that looked mundane on the outside, but had almost all the technology that had been in the Triskelion on the inside.

Alana stopped in front of what appeared to be just an office wall. A picture of Howard Stark was there, and she pressed her hand to the photograph, an electric pad hardwired underneath. Howard Stark's face dissolved away as the device swiped her handprint, registering her for clearance.

'Agent Mercer. Level Eight. Strike Team: Delta. Clearance approved.' The worlds appeared just above her hand; the wall parting a moment later to reveal the SHIELD operation that was hidden inside the building.

Other employees of SHIELD glanced over as she walked by, some adopting surprised faces, while others carried on like they didn't just see one of the country's top assassins. As usual, most wore suits, clean cut and professional in style.

Her combat boots, jeans, gray t-shirt and brown leather jacket made her stand out from the others.

It only took her a few minutes to find the housing complex inside the base. Located right next to the medical wing, she remembered what was written in her debriefing packet, and headed down to office number 438 to find Doctor Tracel.

She found him in his office, filing away documents while the radio filled the silence. "Doctor Tracel?" She asked, leaning in from the open doorway and knocking her fist against the doorframe before entering the room.

The stout, round-faced man perked up instantly, his lips spreading into a smile as he made his way over, offering an outstretched hand. "Hello! You must be Agent Mercer."

Alana nodded, shaking his hand once. "Mr. Rodgers told me you'd be arriving today. I have your charge's file right here." The doctor retreated back to his desk, glancing over his shoulder and waving her inside further, "Please."

"How has he been?" Alana asked, her head tilted to the side slightly as she questioned the eccentric doctor, hands clasped together behind her back.

"Same as the first day he got here." He told her in a disappointed voice, as she watched the doctor shuffle through some papers, picking up and putting down multiple files as he muttered to himself. "Barnes, Barnes, I just had it right here. Barn- ah! Here!"

"With all due respect, Doctor, I won't be needing his file." The corners of Doctor Tracel's mouth dropped slightly, his eyebrows coming together in clear confusion. "I prefer to learn about him through what he tells me himself." Alana explained, trying to sound respectful.

"But his mental stability, you-"

"I'm more than capable of assessing that myself." She interrupted the man with a raise of her hand. "I just need to know where he is." The doctor nodded, placing the file back down again before he spoke.

"Down the hall, around the corner, second room on your left."

"Thank you." Alana turned to leave, but the doctor calling out her name made her stop and look back.

"How are you doing?" He asked politely, and Alana's hand clenched into a fist, "I heard you were on medical duty due to-"

"I'm fine now." She cut him off before he could say it. Alana knew if he said it aloud, then she'd be forced to think about it again. That was something she never wanted to think about, never wanted to relive.

She wouldn't wish that upon anyone, not even Loki. "If you'll excuse me, I have a patient to see."

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**So, uh, hi! I really hope someone liked this, I'm hoping to keep it going, this was just the prologue. I'm not sure when I'll be updating, it's kinda busy finishing up high school right now, but I really like the ideas I have for this story! Tell me what you think!**


	2. Chapter 1

**Thanks everyone for all your follows/favorites and the review! I hope y'all like this chapter too!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything remotely related to Captain America, that belongs to Marvel.**

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_"In this bright future, you can't forget your past." –Bob Marley_

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Alana rapped her knuckles against the outside of the door. She heard it echo on the other side, but other than that, there was silence. She tried again, knocking a bit louder than before.

In her other hand, she flipped a key card over and over again. It was a habit she had formed years ago, before SHIELD, and it was one that Agent Barton had worked hard to try and break. He was worried that -if she were fiddling with a gun- she wouldn't get a shot off in time. Seven years later, and it had never been an issue.

The current object involved in her subconscious habit could open the door with just a swipe, but she wanted to give her charge the option of opening the door himself. After a few seconds, she gave up waiting patiently.

"Sergeant?" She waited a few more moments, still got no response, and then swiped her card. The door unlocked with a click, and Alana stuffed the key into her pocket of her jeans before turning the handle and letting herself inside.

The door closed smoothly behind her, and Alana turned around, letting her eyes sweep over the darkened room.

She thought of how accommodating SHIELD had been with Steve Rodgers. The whole room had been designed specifically for him. The 1940's décor, the baseball game on the radio, even the wallpaper had been from his time.

Not that the room she stood in now wasn't nice, it really was, considering it was a type of cell. The floor was carpeted, the walls painted a dark navy, and even the furniture was made of solid oak wood. Her gaze fell upon the figure in the corner.

He was sitting atop a bed that he had obviously never used, legs drawn up in front of his chest, his arms folded and elbows resting atop his knees. Black, unkempt hair hung down in front of his eyes, and Alana could see the dark circles underneath them from her spot by the door.

"Sergeant Barnes?" He didn't even look up when she spoke. Alana pursed her lips together and made her way further into the bare room.

Besides the bed, all that was there was a dresser, nightstand, and then another room that Alana knew to be the bathroom.

Shrugging off her leather jacket, Alana made her way over to the dresser. She put her jacket on top, folding it in half so it didn't hang off the ends before sitting down on the floor, her back against the wall.

She could feel his eyes on her, but Alana didn't look at him, instead she dug into her pocket, taking out her phone. "This is a cell phone," She explained aloud, "Like a telephone, but it's gotten a bit smaller than it was before."

Silence was her only response.

The next hour passed in relative quiet as well. Alana stayed on her phone for the most part; texting Barton to see how he was and checking in with her older brother, Tommy, to assure him that she was doing just fine.

Ever since Barton had told him of her accident, Tommy was always worried. Barton had lied of course, not being allowed to fully disclose the nature of what had happened, but he got the point across to Tommy no less, who had gone into full on protective sibling mode.

He had almost gotten as bad as Barton and Romanoff with his worrying.

To Tommy, Alana worked in a separate branch of the Washington DC police force. She knew he had his doubts, as her long time away from a phone and multiple injuries over the years had led him to believe she wasn't telling him everything. But he was good about it, not prying anymore than she allowed. For all he knew, Clint Barton was just her working partner, which really wasn't that far from the truth.

It only took her thirty minutes to convince her brother she was doing just fine.

After fifteen minutes of silence and having run out of things to do on her phone, Alana decided to try a different approach with the man who still sat, unmoving, on his bed.

Her thoughts drifted back to Steve again, and how she had handled the super-soldier all those years ago. Sergeant Barnes was completely different though, and so was she. Alana wondered if this seemed harder because she had a sense of how the man before her felt.

She knew what it was like to be played with, to have your brain and sense of being manipulated before your very eyes, and not being able to do a thing about it. _"To be unmade._" That was how Clint had described it.

Though, Alana knew, while their situations had been similar, they were not identical. She doesn't know exactly how he feels, because she wasn't there with him. Alana doesn't know his life, doesn't know what he lost, and she doesn't know what he even remembers.

In the end, she decides to just try and engage him in conversation.

"_Я говорю по-русски, а также, если вы предпочитаете." _(I speak Russian as well, if you prefer.) Her offer was light and she glanced up to see him watching her already, his blue eyes narrowed.

"Почему вы здесь?" (Why are you here?) She smirked as he spoke, his voice deeper than she had expected it to be.

"кот я ваш родной язык? Это очень хорошо." (Cat let go of your tongue? That's good.) His face didn't change at her crack at humor, and Alana shrugged her shoulders once, "И чтобы помочь вам." (and to help you.)

"I don't need help." He switched over to English, and she let out a breath, crossing her arms over her chest as she brought her legs up and mirrored his position.

"See, that's exactly what people who need help say."

"Who are you?" He had ignored her response again.

"Agent Brewster Alana Mercer." His expression still didn't change, "and you, are Sargent James Buchanan Barnes."

They starred at one another for a few minutes after that. Alana looking over the rough panes of his face and body; his broad jawline, shoulders, the bionic arm. She decided that, one, he needed a haircut and a shave, and two, once that was done he would be quite attractive.

"What else do you know about me?"

"Nothing." She said truthfully and she saw his eyebrows draw together behind his dark hair. "You're a human being, not a dog. You can tell me about yourself, I'm not going to read a damn file about you."

That's what she had hated the most.

Waking up in a cell, surrounded by people who already knew everything about her. They knew her birthday, her parents, her brother, where she grew up, what high school she attended, the name of the street where she played baseball when she was ten years old. Hell, they even knew about her Beatles obsession.

She hadn't even seen their faces, yet they knew so much about her. When she had gotten back from her time in Tegucigalpa, she had sworn to never read another file on a person ever again. Unless, of course, she was being sent to kill them, then she had to know.

Alana didn't need to know everything about Sargent Barnes.

"I'm a machine." He refuted scornfully, his lips turning into a scowl as Alana stood up, crossing her arms over her chest.

"No." Her voice was firm, surprising the man on the bed in how harsh she sounded. "You ever fucking say that again, and I will personally kick your ass." That got him to pick his head up, really looking at her for the first time. "You understand?"

"Yes."

"Good. I'll see you tomorrow then, I can bring some food." She told him, "Anything else you want?" He didn't reply, just shaking his head slightly. Alana nodded, "Goodnight James."

* * *

The sounds of The Beatles filled the whole main room of the apartment, a record playing from the turntable, Alana had gotten from her grandfather years ago, sat in the corner. Pictures lined the walls here as well, much like in her Chicago home.

Photos of herself, of Clint, of Natasha, and of Steve. All of the Avengers really, as well as a few other SHIELD agents she had gotten close to over the years. A family portrait hung over the mantel; her older brother standing with his arm around Alana's shoulders, their mother sitting in a chair just in front of them. Even the two family dogs sat on either side of her mother, ears perked forwards as they were being bribed with treats at the time.

It was an old photo, and both of the dogs had long since passed away. It was the only family picture in her whole apartment. The only picture of her mother in the whole house.

It was taken years ago, before she joined SHIELD, even before Clint offered her the position. Sometimes, when she looked at it, Alana didn't even recognize herself.

She was smaller in the photograph. Now, her muscles were larger, her body seemed stockier, the remnants of baby fat that still lined her jaw back then was now completely gone. Alana had stopped dying her hair once she joined SHIELD, and so the brunette in the photo wasn't natural, when she looked at the photo, that was the only time she saw the downside in letting her hair color revert back to it's natural shade. She resembled her mother more.

A personal downside, but one that bothered her nonetheless.

Standing by the stove, wooden spoon in hand and cell phone balanced between her shoulder and ear, Alana half-listened as Tony Stark explained his newest project.

"You're not even listening anymore, are you?" He accused, finally ending his long rant.

"I'm listening!" Alana defended herself, "You were talking about how you found a new use for…polarity reversal, and using that you'll be able to power…" She trailed off, not remembering where the conversation had gone from there. "Fusion reactor?" She guessed, and Tony let out a huff on the other end.

"See? You never listen. That would lead to me exploding myself actually, this is why we never let you make the decisions."

"Oh yeah, we left the decision making job to the fossil."

"Rodgers just stepped into that, with a title like Captain America, he kinda got it by default."

"I could've been our leader." Alana tossed up the idea sarcastically, earning a chuckle from Tony.

"You're hilarious, you know that?" Alana smirked, mixing the concoction in front of her again before putting in some sausage.

"I'm a damn riot." She paused, listening as Tony told something to JARVIS, "Hey, is Bruce still at the Tower?"

"What?"

"Bruce? He still there?" She asked again.

"Yeah, sure. Why?"

"Tell him he owes me a phone call." A buzzer chimed, and Alana glanced over at the timer that would keep beeping until she turned it off. "I gotta run, dinner calls."

"You'd rather eat than talk to me?" Tony asked, and Alana couldn't tell if he was feigning offense or if the man with an ego the size of Africa actually thought she'd pick him over food.

"Absolutely."

"Well-" She hung up then, placed her phone on the counter and grabbed a bowl to fill with her dinner from the overhead cabinet.

* * *

_"Alana, jump!" She could feel the heat from the flames licking her back, and glanced again from the open expanse before her to Agent Barton, who stood on the other side of the ever-growing open air space that separated them._

_Her leg ached, a bullet lodged just above her knee, blood dripping down and soaking through her pants. Alana looked behind her for a split second, wishing Barton still had his bow, before backing up. Fire burned the jacket she wore, but only for a second before she took three long strides forwards. _

_Fear and panic exploded through her whole being as one knee buckled just as she pushed off the platform. She watched as Clint thrust himself out, one hand holding onto the railing, and managed to barely catch her hand, the rest of her body dangling hundreds of feet above the research facility. _

_She glanced downwards, eyes locking onto the boiling yellow substance below. "Clint!" She could barely hear herself over the pounding in her head, and she looked to her supervising officer as she struggled to keep a grip on his hand. The heat from the flames was making both of their hands sweat, and she could feel herself slipping._

_"I gottcha! It's going to be okay, Alana-" She could feel the scream rip up her throat, but no sound came out. She was falling, her body weightless as the distance between herself and the substance got closer and closer. Flames licked her arms, blood gushing from her stomach and chest as she hit the side of one of the concrete walls, her body screaming in agony as she continued to fall faster and faster._

Alana woke up in a layer of sweat, her arms shaking as she struggled to push the nightmare away. She leaned over slowly, flipping on the lamp that sat beside her bed, illuminating the area around her. Her breathing was still rapid, and her mind was on high alert. She stuffed a hand underneath her pillow, calming down slightly when she felt the handle of one of her brass knives.

Alana looked herself over. She was all here, she was okay. They'd come back for her, she hadn't died, she was alive, she was alive and she was fine. Alana reminded herself she came out of that mission stronger. After months of therapy, she'd come out better than before.

She'd met Steve, she'd met Thor, the rest of the Avengers. They had saved New York, the whole world even. The nightmare was only a memory from years ago; she repeated that over and over again in her head. After a few minutes, the shaking subsided, and she became aware of how rough her throat felt.

"Fuck." She swore quietly, knowing she had actually been screaming aloud. She would have to leave something for her neighbors as an apology.

They were nice people, the Johnsons. A middle-aged couple who had been married for the past eighteen years. They had two children, Hannah and Cole, who always enjoyed talking to Alana. She had even babysat them a few times while their parents went out.

Greg, their father, had asked her about the nightmares once. She made up some excuse about PTSD, which really wasn't an excuse, just a half-truth. They put up with her screaming every once and a while, and in return, she tries to be a good neighbor.

Alana glanced over at her clock, red blinking numbers telling her it was only a few more hours until dawn, and she knew that trying to fall back asleep would only prove futile. If she closed her eyes again, she'd just see more.

Instead, she pushed the duvet back, got herself out of bed and warily made her way to the bathroom. Her feet were cold against the tile, and most mornings she hated that, but right now, it helped establish the fact that she was _here_. She was safe, she was alive.

She splashed water over her face, drying it off with a hand towel before throwing her dark blonde hair up into a ponytail. Alana stared at her reflection for a moment, working to keep her mind from falling back into the nightmare.

She's afraid of the nightmares. That's something she would openly admit, she has no doubt that she is afraid of what her own mind will come up with during the night to torture her.

She's taken bullets, assassinated world leaders, faced gods, survived being captured for months on end and days filled with nothing but torture, and even saved the world from an alien invasion. She has done all of that, and only three times has she ever truly registered that she was afraid while in the field.

But the nightmares? She deals with that fear every day. Terror, is a better word for the feeling.

Alana watches her reflection smirk as she remembers a quote. 'Fear doesn't shut you down, it wakes you up'.

She feels silly thinking about it so often, but her therapist said it to her once. He told her it was from a book. Alana's never read it, but she liked the quote.

Her fear does wake up her, and with that thought, she opened her medicine cabinet. The orange bottle rattled as she picked it up, unscrewed the cap and popped Betahistine pills down her throat.

She changed quickly after that, throwing on a tank top and shorts before she headed out the door. It wasn't even five o'clock yet, so the DC streets were barren when she got outside, leaving Alana with just her thoughts and John Lennon singing through her earphones.

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**I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Review if you'd like, I love receiving them!**

**The book quote, if you didn't know, is from Divergent by Veronica Roth.**

**More Bucky to come in coming chapters, I promise!**


	3. Chapter 2

**Thanks so much for all the follows and favorites! I hope you enjoy this chapter!**

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_"I think that love is stronger than habits or circumstances. I think it is possible to keep yourself for someone for a long time, and still remember why you were waiting when she comes at last... I would enter your sleep if I could, and guard you there, and slay the thing that hounds you, as I would if it had the courage to face me in fair daylight. But I cannot come in unless you dream of me." _– _Peter S. Beagle, The Last Unicorn_

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"Я принес еду." (I brought food) Alana held up the two large pizza boxes she had balanced on one hand as she closed the door behind her.

James eyed her carefully from his spot on the bed, watching as she walked over and sat on the opposite end.

Alana placed the boxes between them lifting the cover. Steam rose up from the top of the pizza, and the aroma of cheese and tomato sauce filled the room. "Это прекрасно, чтобы поесть." (It's fine to eat) She assured him, taking one large piece and folding it in half before taking a bite.

She was still a bit rattled from her morning and she hoped that being here would help distract her brain.

Alana chose to stay silent for now, scarfing down a whole piece of the pizza and then taking another one. When she was halfway through with that, she looked up to see him lean forwards, taking one of the slices for himself.

A moment later, the man across from her let out a low moan. Her eyes snapped up, narrowing at him for a moment before he spoke up. "Это фантастическая." (This is fantastic.) Alana chuckled, getting a small grin in response from him. "Напоминает мне о Бруклине." (Reminds me of Brooklyn)

"Бруклине?" (Brooklyn?) She asked, wondering what the significance was.

"Я вырос там." (I grew up there.) He told her between bites as she finished her slice and leaned back against the wall.

"Вы вспомнили , что ?" (You remembered that?) Alana wondered how long ago the memory had come back to him. In response, he just nodded his head. His long hair blocked her view of his eyes for a moment, reminding her that he needed a haircut sooner rather than later.

He stayed silent, continuing to eat the food she had brought him and not looking at her. "James?" She tried, wanting to keep him talking. She could practically see him drawing into himself again.

"People called me Bucky." His words were short and clipped. Alana crossed her arms over her chest.

"You want me to call you Bucky?" Alana asked, and watched as he paused in his eating to think it over. "Or James?"

"I don't know." He ran his metal hand through his hair.

"Well, you're the only one who can answer that question. So when you decide, let me know." She smiled slightly at him. "You remember my name?"

"Brewster." Her named rolled off his tongue easily, and his lips twitched upwards slightly when she barked out a laugh.

"Yeah, but you call me Alana." She told him, letting her eyes slip closed.

She listened to the man across from her chew his food and, a few moments later, he reached across to grab another slice. She guessed that it was his first real outside meal since the 40's.

Alana knew how HYDRA worked, and she knew that James wouldn't have been given solid food. Just liquids and IV's to keep him in top condition.

She heard him open the second box as well. "Before I forget," She spoke up, keeping her eyes closed, "You need a haircut and a decent shave." Alana heard his movements pause. "I can get you a razor tonight."

Her answer was in response to his hesitation, though she was correct in her assumption that he didn't have one. It surprised him, how willing she was to help him. It felt…nice. "You aren't allowed to leave the building yet, but there's a medical wing on this floor, they give haircuts if you ask nicely." Bucky nodded, finishing his pizza before looking up at her.

Alana had one eye cracked open, watching him with a quizzical expression on her face. "You catch that?" She asked.

"Yeah." He nodded again, and realized she hadn't seen him nod before.

"You are allowed to leave your room, you know that right?"

"Yes." She smiled, and it made him grin a little bit back at her.

"Good," She closed her eyes again, tilting her head back on the wall. "There's a gym here too, and a cafeteria."

"Okay."

Alana let her thoughts wander as the two settled into silence once more. Her senses however, stayed on the Winter Soldier. She could feel his eyes on her, hear each exhale he let out, could sense where he was. It had all been a part of her training.

Training that made her very over-qualified for what she was doing right now. Though, sitting here with Bucky, she could see why Steve thought she'd be a good choice. Someone like her, at least.

She was perfectly fine with sitting here; her patience was almost never-ending when it came to waiting things out. Alana had sat for hours, sometimes days, by herself waiting for a target to come into range.

One of her first solo missions had been like that. She had sat in the mountains of Siberia for three days by herself, just waiting for a man who was fleeing from Russia. She had been told he was a national security threat, and so he needed to be taken out.

A bullet through the head from two hundred yards away had been enough to keep him quiet.

Now, she just sat and would wait until Sergeant Barnes was ready to open up. Alana knew not to force it, that would only end badly. She had to be patient and always prepared for him to click from being the recovering man he was now, to the notorious assassin.

Alana knew it was only a matter of time before something happened that would set him off. A dream, a sound, someone's words. It would probably happen more than once. She wasn't expecting an easy recovery for the man across from her. Not in the slightest.

She guessed that's another reason why Steve asked her. Her expectations would be realistic. Alana wouldn't see a slight relapse as a setback. She would keep trying to help.

* * *

Two days later Alana sat at the end of James's bed. She was filling out the paperwork she had received from her therapist. SHIELD had decided she would start going to sessions again while she worked with James. Something about how what she went through could be considered 'traumatic'.

_'Have you considered suicide in the past year?' _She read it in her head, lifting her pen to check off the 'yes' box. She sighed, hating the stupid self-evaluation sheets. She must have filled out at least fifteen of these in the past seven years.

Alana glanced up, her eyes landing on James. He had cleaned up yesterday after she had gotten him a razor. All the scruff on his face was now gone, and she was surprised at how much younger he looked. His hair was still long, but she wasn't sure if he wanted it that way, or if he just didn't want to leave him room yet.

She was going to drag him out of this room soon if he didn't leave on his own. At least to the gym, she thought some physical activity would do wonders for him.

He had fallen asleep a few minutes ago while reading one of the books she had brought him. It lay open on his chest now, and Alana could make out the cover of_ Catcher in the Rye _from where she sat.

It was the first time she had ever seen him asleep, and she took the opportunity to look him over. He wore a tight fitting gray t-shirt, the SHIELD symbol on the front. Even though he hadn't been working out, he was still in top physical condition, as far as she could see. His cybernetic arm lay over his stomach, the red Soviet star only partially visible underneath where his shirt cut off. He had on the black sweatpants that SHIELD had provided him with as well. His bare feet stuck out just a few feet away from her.

James looked peaceful when he slept; his facial features smoothed out and devoid of worry lines. Though he looked even better when he smiled, which she hadn't seen again since she had brought the pizza two days ago.

Alana had brought food every day since then, the Chinese takeout boxes that sat on the dresser were today's remnants.

She finished the final page of her evaluation, clicked her pen closed and then placed the clipboard beside her.

"Нет." (No) Alana looked over at James when he spoke, her eyebrows coming together in confusion. "Нет!" He said it more aggressively, and she saw his eyes were still closed.

His face twisted into a grimace, head jerking to the side once. A layer of sweat seemed to come from nowhere and cover his body. He let out a groan, a leg kicking out.

Alana was off the bed in the next second. She walked over to his side. "James." She called out his name, but got no response. His breathing got faster, coming in short breaths. "James! Проснись!" (Wake up!)

"Остановите, пожалуйста!" (Stop, please!) He cried out.

Alana knew that it was a stupid move, but the desperation and pain in his voice drove her to grab his forearm to wake him.

He was awake instantly, and she was held against the wall in the next second, metal fingers curled around her neck. Alana winced as he drove his other fist into her, pain shooting through her stomach.

She kicked out with her legs, distracting him for a moment before she thrust her right elbow up, catching him in the face. Alana twisted herself around to the left a moment later, rotating James' arm around so that she was behind him and off the wall.

"James!" She tried getting him back, then drove her elbow down onto his twisted arm a moment later when she felt him try and get up. James fell to the floor, but his arm came around a second later and he grabbed her shoulder, flipping her over so that she was on her back in front of him. The loud thud of her body hitting the ground seemed to shake the room.

Alana felt blood fill her mouth as he punched the side of her mouth, a loud crack sounding in the room.

She reached upwards quickly, wrapping both arms around his neck before heaving herself forwards and flipping him over onto the floor beside her. "James!" Alana called out again to him, and then rolled over a moment later, grabbing onto his long hair and driving his head into the ground.

It pounded against the hardwood, and Alana grit her teeth together before she hit it against the floor again. She let go then, pushing herself to her feet. One of her hands came up to hold onto her throbbing side as she made her way to the bathroom. Once there, she leaned over the sink, spitting out blood from her mouth before glancing back to the main room, where James was just starting to sit up.

She could see his body shaking as he ran his hands through his hair. Alana glanced in the mirror once, already seeing the bruises beginning to form around her neck. She ignored them, making her way over to James.

His shoulders where shaking as she crouched down. She didn't say a word before she placed a hand on his arm, his head slowly lifting to look up at her. Alana recognized the look in his eyes as one that she had seen many times in the mirror.

Her arms were around him in the next moment, and she felt him tense underneath her touch. Alana started humming then, keeping her hold on him while she felt him relax start to relax.

It was what she always wanted whenever she woke up from a nightmare back when they started years ago. Just to have something to hold onto. For a while, Clint had been that for her, after he found out how severe they were getting.

And so Alana decided to try the same for James. He doesn't cry, and she doesn't expect him to, but she feels him try and calm down his breathing. "All my troubles seemed so far away, now it looks as though they're here to stay." The words came out softly, and Alana only sings the one line, humming the rest of the song.

He's calmed down considerably once she's done, and Alana unwraps her arms from around him. Bucky sat up slowly, running his hands through his long hair repeatedly.

"How's your head?" Alana asked seriously.

"Hurts a bit."

"Cognitive recalibration." Alana explained, getting a perplexed look from him, "I hit your head really hard on the floor. Usually works. I would've just fought you out of it the old fashioned way, but I've been outta practice."

"Sorry."

"Don't be. It's not your fault." She watched his eyes drift down to her neck, where she imagined the bruises were getting darker now. "I've been through a lot worse, trust me."

* * *

**I do not own any characters except for Alana. Please review if you'd like, I'd love to hear from you!**


	4. Chapter 3

**Woah, thanks everyone for all the reviews, favorites, and follows! I love the feedback and to know what everyone thinks so far!**

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_A person can only be born in one place. However, he may die several times elsewhere: in the exiles and prisons, and in a homeland transformed by the occupation and oppression into a nightmare.__ -_Mahmoud Darwish

* * *

By the next morning, the bruises around her neck had changed into a harsh black and blue. No matter what angle she looked at them from, it was obvious that a hand had been clutching her by the throat.

Her leather jacket didn't do much to hide them, so Alana had flipped the collar upwards, only hiding some of the discoloration from view. She considered that as good as it was going to get before heading out the door of her apartment and towards the S.H.I.E.L.D facility.

Alana had stayed later with James last night, refusing to leave until he accepted that it wasn't his fault he attacked her. To get to that point, she had told him that she was a field agent for S.H.I.E.L.D. She knew how to fight, and just like him, she was a soldier.

While she had left out how she was a part of Strike Team: Delta, she still was able to get her point across.

She kept her head down as she waited for the crosswalk light to change, tapping her boot clad foot against the pavement impatiently.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket, causing Alana to jump slightly at the sudden sensation. She ignored the notification, knowing it would just be another text from her mother demanding a phone call. Talking to her mother was almost the very last thing Alana ever wanted to do, so she would put it off just a little bit longer.

Glancing up, she watched the crosswalk light change and she made her way across the street, stuffing her hands into her jacket pockets. She passed the coffee shop that she usually stopped by every morning, but today chose to keep going, not wanting anyone to see the bruises.

She wasn't ashamed or anything like that, she just didn't want to deal with any prying or hysterical questions that early in the morning.

After arriving at the S.H.I.E.L.D facility, Alana made her way towards the medical wing. She only paused briefly at the junction of the medical wing and the hallway in which Bucky's room was located before deciding to head straight to the doctor.

The psychological department of S.H.I.E.L.D was one of the best in the world. While Alana didn't have any other therapy organization to base her judgment off of, she had always thought it was very stereotypical.

A simple colored room, a couple of couches facing each other with a coffee table between them, and the doctor with a clipboard in hand.

Alana rapped her knuckles against the doorframe, and the man inside looked up from whatever sheet he was reading.

"Agent Mercer!" He smiled, beckoning her inside, "Please, shut the door behind you."

She did as she was told, making her way further inside before flashing him a smile. "Doctor Kilridge."

"It's been a while since our last meeting, hasn't it?" He held out a hand towards the other couch as an invitation for her to sit.

Alana did so, crossing her arms over her chest and putting one leg over the other.

"A year and a half ago, I think." He nodded his head, "Just after New York."

"Ah, yes." He smiled over at her. A familiar smile, one that she had seen many times and it put her at ease. "And since then? How've things been?"

"Shitty." Alana had given up on being dishonest with therapists years ago when she realized that the fastest way to get back to work was to just tell the truth. "Right after New York, things were, they were good. Natasha and I worked an overseeing project over in Mumbai for a few months."

Doctor Kilridge looked up at her after he finished writing down his notes, "And how'd that go?"

"Good. Things got a bit hairy towards the end, someone blew our cover, but we handled it."

"Did you kill anyone?"

"Three men." Alana didn't remember all of her killings, but she did remember one of them clearly. "One was only seventeen. He uh, he was scared." The look in his eyes came back into her mind, and once again she got the feeling of indifference she had experienced then. "I didn't care."

"Would you be scared to die?" The Doctor asked her, making eye contact with Alana, which he held as she answered him.

"No." She was definite; "I've been in too many situations where I've almost been killed."

"What about you're last mission?" Alana froze, her hands clenched into fists. Doctor Kilridge took note of her reactions, scribbling words down onto his paper. "Were you ever scared you were going to die?"

"No," His eyebrows rose at her answer, "I wanted to die, then."

* * *

"Come on." James furrowed his eyebrows together in confusion at Alana as she stood in the doorway to his room. She had just opened it herself, not even offering a greeting to him.

"What?"

"We're going the gym." She told him as he took note of the upturned collar of her jacket. Alana noticed his gaze, and tilted her head towards the hallway behind her. "I need to beat the shit outta something, and you should get out of this room." He hesitated, still sitting on his bed, and Alana let out a breath. "You don't even have to work out, I thought you might, but if not, I can just come back-"

"No." He cut her off, pushing himself up off his bed, "I'll come."

Neither of them brought up what had occurred the night prior, and Alana waited as James put on his sneakers. He nodded that he was ready, and Alana held the door open for him as they made their way out of his room.

James walked beside her as Alana made her way to the workout room that was within the facility. "Nice haircut," she said, smirking up at him, "I did notice."

"I was going to be heartbroken if you didn't." It took her a moment to realize that he was actually joking with her.

"Well, I would never break your heart on purpose. No promises though, just so we're clear."

"Good to know." James had a slight grin on his face, though he was still aware of the eyes that were on them as they walked through the halls. He glanced down at the shorter woman by his side.

She looked almost completely relaxed as she walked the hallways, though he could see the tension she held in her shoulders. He assumed that's why they were going to the gym.

Alana felt his eyes on her and looked up, once again taking in his haircut. It was definitely shorter, and her mind recalled the photographs of Sergeant Bucky Barnes that she had seen in history textbooks growing up. It was that hairstyle that he sported now, and when he smiled at her, Alana couldn't help the ends of her mouth pulling upwards.

She almost forgot the dead feeling that was in her stomach as a result of her therapy session.

"This way." She told him, turning and pushing open a glass door.

The S.H.I.E.L.D workout area was top notch, and probably the best one in all of DC since the Triskelion was destroyed. Hardwood floors gleamed, one wall made up of all mirrors, different workout machines taking up the space in front. A boxing ring sat in the middle of the room, punching bags and free weights taking up another side of the room opposite the mirrored wall.

"Feel free to use whatever you want." James nodded his head, still in awe at how even the exercise equipment was so different than it was in the 40's.

A few other S.H.I.E.L.D employees were in the room, two ran on treadmills while another lifted free weights.

Alana left Bucky standing by the doorway, waving at over at Agent Murdock, who lifted a hand in response as he continued his run. She stopped in front of one of the numerous lockers in the room, pulling up on the handle and opening the metal door. She reached inside, taking out the hand wraps that were on the shelf inside before shutting the door again.

She sat on a nearby bench, took off her jacket, and started wrapping her right hand. Looking up, Alana watched as James picked up one of the fifty-pound dumbbells. He glanced over at her, catching her gaze. She just grinned at him, getting one in response before she pulled off her boots and socks. She stood up from the bench, both hand wraps in place.

"Anyone care if I put on the radio?" She asked in a loud voice as she walked over to the stereo that was installed in the wall beside the lockers.

"Go for it." The other woman who was on a treadmill replied, and Alana reached up to press the power button. Rap music blasted out of the speakers, and Alana changed the station quickly. It took a few minutes for her to find the station that played the old, classic music.

She hoped James would recognize some of the songs, or at least feel more familiar with what came out of the speakers. As Shirley and Lee came out the speakers, Alana figured the 50's were as close as she was going to get on public radio.

Humming along to the music that she had listened to with her grandfather when she was younger, Alana made her way over to the punching sandbag that hung from the ceiling.

She didn't even get in a stance before firing her first punch at the bag. The loud smack filled the whole room, and Bucky's head snapped up. He watched as she laid into the bag, her fists hitting it over and over again.

Alana pressed her tongue to the roof of her mouth to keep from biting it as she continued beating the sandbag. Her stomach and neck ached slightly, but she ignored it, enjoying the stress release.

_"There was nothing you could do to stop that, Alana."_ Doctor Kilridge's words echoed through her brain. She drove her fist harder into the bag, her punches coming faster.

_"It's just something we don't have a cure for right now, you know it could come back if you stop taking the medication." _She didn't want to take those damn pills. She didn't want to have the risk of it coming back again.

Alana spun on one foot, the other flying through the air as she delivered a roundhouse kick to the bag.

_"They just kept on beating me, long after they knew I didn't know anything."_

"Brewster." She didn't notice as Agent Murdock made his way over, a hand raised as he tried to get her attention.

_"I sat in a goddamn cage, like I was a feral dog." _She remembered the stench, the darkness, she remembered getting beaten with a club.

"Brewster!" She still didn't respond, her fists hitting the bag even harder as her thoughts got darker. James put down his weights and started making his way over. He was on the other side of the bag when Agent Murdock yelled at him. "James, move!"

_"I snapped his neck."_ Bucky moved to the side just in time, the sandbag breaking off the chains that held it up as Alana delivered a final punch. It landed on the ground a few yards away, sand pouring out of the hole that had been punched through the fabric.

Bucky starred at Alana as she stood still, her arms hanging down in front of her, hands still clenched. Her shoulders moved up and down with her deep breaths, and sweat covered the back of her neck. "Brewster?" She looked up slowly at Agent Murdock after a few seconds.

"I can replace that." She told him, gesturing to the broken sandbag lamely with one hand.

"You, okay?" She nodded her head, opening her other hand and looking down at her palms.

"Better, thanks." Murdock nodded, his lips set in a thin line. She could tell he didn't really believe her, but he left her alone.

She was, after all, a higher level than him. Being apart of the Avengers Initiative and Strike Team: Delta meant that Alana could get away with almost anything when dealing with other S.H.I.E.L.D agents.

Now, Murdock walked away, going back over to the treadmill again, leaving Bucky standing with Alana. She was surprised when he spoke up. "What's wrong?"

Alana looked up at him, lips pursing together as she shrugged her shoulders. "Now? Nothing." She turned to head back towards the lockers, but a metal hand caught her by the forearm and stopped her. Bucky's eyes pleaded for her to tell him, and her lips dipped into a frown before she gave in, this was an improvement for him, she shouldn't shut him out. "I had my first therapy session this morning. Haven't had one for a while now. We talked about some things I didn't wanna bring up, so I had some steam to blow off." His grip had loosened on her arm, and when she finished explaining, James let go altogether.

"We going back now?" He asked, watching her unravel the tape from her hands. There wasn't a scratch on her knuckles.

"Only if you want to." She put the tape back where she found it, turning to look at James. "I can run on the treadmill for awhile."

"You won't break that too?" He asked her, grinning slightly.

"I limit my damage to the outside world to only one object a day."

* * *

**Let me know what you thought!**


	5. Chapter 4

**Wow! Thanks everyone for the continuing favorites, follows and reviews! I love all the reviews and really love hearing what you all think so far!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing except Alana.**

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_"Sometimes being a friend means mastering the art of timing. There is a time for silence. A time to let go and allow people to hurl themselves into their own destiny. And a time to prepare to pick up the pieces when it's all over."_

-Octavia Butler

* * *

James was able to remember past memories at a remarkably fast rate. Alana theorized that it could be an effect from the experiments that Zola did on him decades ago, but she wasn't entirely sure. From what they had gathered from interrogations of Hydra doctors, he had started to remember his past after being freed from the ice for over a week when he was still the Winter Soldier.

Given it had been over a month since he was freed from that role, the resistor in his brain was slowly wearing thin.

This had both good and bad side effects.

The good was obviously that he was remembering who he really was. He remembered his family, Brooklyn, taking out girls, joining the army, fighting in the 107th. Alana knew he remembered Steve Rodgers as well, but they didn't speak of him, not yet at least.

The bad part about Bucky's rapid recollection of his memories was the relapses. There had been three in the past two weeks, fifteen days since the first. Two of the most recent ones hadn't been very bad.

Alana had looked over at him, or they had been in the middle of a conversation, when his eyes would clench shut. His body would start shaking soon afterwards, a cold sweat covering the back of his neck as he fought to keep it together.

That's when Alana would sit and wrap her arms around him. She would tell him he was all right and just kept assuring him that no one was going to hurt him here.

The other relapse had been worse though.

Alana had been punched in the face plenty of times, but coming from a cybernetic arm? That had been a whole new level of pain for her. Not that she couldn't handle it, she brushed it off just fine after she reset her nose.

She was one of the best fighters, but she hadn't wanted to hurt him in order to get him to calm down enough to remember who he was. Alana had only paused a moment to try and talk through to Bucky before his fist had come smashing into her face.

Alana hadn't cared whether or not she hurt him after that, and she had gotten him into an arm bar hold a few minutes later, hyperextending Bucky's elbow until snapped out of it.

Now, the two sat side by side, Alana looking over the blueprints Tony Stark had sent her earlier in the week for a new sniper rifle while Bucky studied them as well. Bucky pointed to a section of the drawing that modeled the gun's interior. "What's that?"

"Stark thought that putting the suppressor on the inside of the gun would be helpful, so it's permanent and then the muzzle can fit in smaller spaces. Not that they made it much harder before." Alana let out a sardonic chuckle. "Look at that, he remembered the bipod this time."

"He didn't have it there before?"

Alana shook her head, "Not in the last model he had me look over."

Bucky nodded his head. "Who're these for?"

"STARK weapons are only provided for S.H.I.E.L.D personnel. Tony stopped making weapons for a while, but after New York, well, he says he sleeps better at night knowing Clint, Natasha, and I won't be killed because our weapons malfunctioned." Bucky's lips curved upwards into a half smile as Alana rolled her eyes.

"He's positive they won't?"

"Thousand percent, says-" A knock at the door interrupted her, and Alana and Bucky glanced at one another, confusion clear on their faces. "You expecting anyone?" She asked him, and Bucky's smirk widened.

"I don't hang out with anyone besides you." He told her, getting up and heading towards the door to answer it.

Bucky didn't recognize the man who stood on the other side. Short, blonde hair spiked up slightly in the front atop his head, and calculating blue eyes starred up at Bucky. The stranger wore jeans and a hooded sweatshirt, his hands hanging limply by his sides.

While he was a stranger to Bucky, he definitely wasn't to Alana.

"Clint!" Bucky had never heard her so excited before, and the man in front of him grinned as Alana slipped past Bucky to wrap her arms around him.

"Hey, Lana." He hugged her back fiercely, and Bucky took a few steps back.

He watched uncomfortably from a few feet away, noticing how they held on to each other just a little longer than most would before pulling apart. Her boyfriend? Bucky wondered, though she had never mentioned one to him before. They didn't kiss when they reunited either, and from what he'd seen in the S.H.I.E.L.D cafeteria since he started going a week ago, people nowadays weren't hesitant to show affection publicly for one another.

"Bucky." Alana's voice caught his attention again, and Bucky saw the two standing together, Clint's arm wrapped around her shoulders. "This is Agent Clint Barton, he was my supervising officer when I joined S.H.I.E.L.D, recruited me too. Clint this is Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes."

Clint held out his hand for Bucky to shake, which he did, grasping the older man's hand tightly. "Alana's mentioned you quite a few times during our phone calls." Clint told him, a slight blush covering Alana's cheeks.

"Can't say the same about you. Please, though come on in." Bucky invited, but Clint shook his head, declining the offer.

"Thanks, but I do have business. I need to talk to her," he explained, "Alone." His stern gaze kept Alana from opening her mouth right away, and she just nodded, slipping out from under his arm. "Meet me in room B29 in five minutes."

"Of course." Alana told him, not looking back as Clint closed the door, leaving Bucky and Alana alone again. "Sorry about this." She told Bucky as she picked up her phone and reached for her jacket. She didn't get a response, and looking up, she saw him starring blankly at the floor. "Bucky?" He looked up slowly at her, his eyebrows drawn together.

"Pochemu ty nikogda ne govoril s nim?" (How come you never mentioned him?) He asked her in Russian, and Alana hesitated before answering.

"Zagolovok ne podoshel." (The subject never came up.) Bucky let out a scoff at her words, shaking his head at her while still not looking up.

"YA skazal vam o KGB." (I told you about the KGB.) He pointed out, "Eto okhvatyvayet proklyatuyu temu." (That covers the damn subject.) His words came out harsh, and Alana's jaw clenched as her anger rose.

"U menya net na eto vremeni seychas." (I don't have time for this now.) She told him sharply, walking to the door and pausing with her hand on the handle. "YA izvinyayus' , yesli moy ne razdelyaya istoriyu moyey zhizni s kem-to ya tol'ko chto vstretil ty rasstroyen." (I'm sorry if my not sharing my life story with someone I just met upset you.) With that, she opened the door and left.

Room B29 was located in the office section of the facility, and Alana had to walk at a brisk pace to ensure that she wasn't late. Whispers followed her down the halls, more so than usual, and Alana glared at one man who starred openly at her. The voices put her on edge, and her hand reached back to ensure that the Swiss blade was still secure in the lining of her jacket.

She didn't even knock before opening the wooden door and closing it behind her. When she turned around, Alana's eyebrows rose into her hairline.

Clint flashed her a grin from where he was seated around a large meeting table. Agent Hill was there as well, which surprised Alana. She had heard that she had taken a job at Stark Industries just after the falling of the Triskelion and the main departs of S.H.I.E.L.D. If she was here, the meeting had to be about something of importance. Alana also recognized Agents Tyler and Goodman, both of whom she had only met a select number of times. Goodman had been her main doctor right after Batswana.

"This isn't alone, Clint." Alana spoke up as she closed the door, eyes narrowed as she glared at Agent Barton. "This looks like an intervention."

"Take a seat, Agent Mercer." Hill asked, and Alana nodded, sitting down in the closest chair and folding her arms atop the table. "We have a few matters to discuss with you." She told her. Alana watched as Agent Goodman pulled out a folder, sliding it across the table towards her. "Do you know what that is?"

Alana pulled it closer, the S.H.I.E.L.D emblem covering the front. She flipped open the cover and was met with a picture of herself. "This is my file." She glanced up at the people seated around her.

"Lana, how much do you know about what happened last month with Project Insight?" It was Clint who spoke up, his words only confusing Alana more.

"Hydra had infiltrated S.H.I.E.L.D and Zola's algorithm was going to kill millions of people until Steve, Natasha, and the Falcon took them out and replaced the target disks to destroy the ships and the Triskelion." She relayed, pausing before adding, "They found Bucky a few days later."

"Do you know what Agent Romanoff did?" Agent Hill asked her, and Alana shook her head.

"Not exactly."

"In order to take down Pierce she had to leak all S.H.I.E.L.D files to the Internet for public viewing. So much was leaked that all of the information could not be accessed all at once; the last of the files just became viewable two days ago. While we tired to catch some of them, we were only able to catch a select number." Hill explained, "The way Romanoff put them up, there is no way to take them down. They were there from the beginning, just unable to be seen."

"All the files?" Alana asked, her stomach sinking, "What about the clearance ten files?" Her words came out faster, "I helped code those myself, there's-"

"Every file, Alana." Clint cut her off, "Even yours."

"And I'm just hearing about this now!" Her voice rose, "My family is going to read this!" She picked up her file in one hand before slapping it back down, "If I was told earlier, then I could've broke the news to them myself!"

"Agent Mercer-"

"No!" Alana cut Hill off before she could speak, "Who made that call?! Who made the decision to withhold this information from me until now?!"

"We needed you to focus on Sergeant Barnes." Agent Goodman spoke up, and Alana scoffed at his words.

"Bullshit!" Alana was on her feet now, hands flat against the table.

"Sergeant Barnes's file remains under S.H.I.E.L.D surveillance only." It was Agent Tyler who spoke up now, "If that's any consolation."

"It's not, thanks." She was speaking without thinking now, and she ran a hand through her hair in exasperation. "No one's answered my damn question."

"I did." Alana stood up straighter when Clint spoke up, his voice calm. "I made the call, I told them not to tell you."

"What gave you the right to do that?!"

"I'm your supervising officer. Every decision that's made about you, goes through me."

"You stopped having that right five years ago!"

"Agent Mercer, sit down!" Hill's voice boomed throughout the room and echoed off the walls. Eyes blazing, Alana turned towards the higher-ranking woman. She was angry…no, she was furious.

It ran through her veins and Alana felt as if her body was tingling with it. "This puts my family at risk! Their lives are in danger now because I couldn't warn them before hand!" Her brother's face flashed before her eyes, her grandparents, her aunts and uncles.

"We have a security watch over them, they're all fine." Hill told her, "Inconspicuous, of course. Unless they've read it online, they don't know a thing."

"Oh, thanks for thinking about what's best for them and ignoring my rights." Alana snapped back.

"_Alana_." Barton said her name in warning, knowing she was getting very close to a thin line of misconduct. She was still on her feet, and she picked up the file again.

"This is mine, correct?" She looked to Agent Tyler, who nodded. "I'll be going then, I have a few phone calls to make."

"Agent Mercer you haven't been dismissed." Agent Hill stood up, hands clasped behind her back. Alana stopped in the doorway and looked back over her shoulder.

"I dismissed myself." She let the door slam behind her on the way out, her hand gripping the folder so tight it caused her knuckles to turn white.

Alana kept walking away from everyone. She didn't know where she was going, but at each intersection of hallways she chose the one that was empty. Almost twenty minutes later she found herself up in the grated balcony overlooking the underground facility garage. It was dark in the corner, and she could watch everything that was happening down below.

Alana sat down, comfortable with this type of environment, and drew her knees up to her chest. She took out her phone, her stomach sinking as she read the text from Tommy.

_'We need to talk, in person.' _

So he found out. Her lips pursed together as she powered down her phone. She wouldn't deal with it now, and she knew there was no way she would be granted permission to get on a flight to Colorado anytime soon.

Minutes passed, which turned into hours of Alana just sitting and watching everyone down below. She took note of everyone's movements. The mechanics working on one of the Humvees, more worked on a motorcycle on the other side of the bay.

She sat perfectly still as she watched, her mind taking in the happenings subconsciously as she thought over how her family would react. They would find out she had been lying to them for almost a decade. They would find out what she could do, what she had done.

They would know that they ate at the dinner table with one of the world's best assassins. They would know about Budapest, about New York, about Batswana.

The file sat in front of her, the S.H.I.E.L.D emblem looking up at her. Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division. She read it over and over again but never moved to read what was inside.

It was almost eleven at night when she heard the footsteps nearing her outpost. Her muscles tensed, her breathing slowed, and she was surprised when Bucky came around the corner.

"Vy zdes' ne dopuskayetsya." (You're not allowed here.) She said softly in Russian, looking away from him as he sat down beside her, his left arm almost touching her right. His eyes flickered over to study her face, if he had any anger left in him, it washed away when he saw the blank look in her eyes.

"Mesto stanovitsya dovol'no pusto pozdno noch'yu." (Place gets pretty empty late at night.) He replied with a shrug of his shoulders. "ne bylo slishkom trudno poluchit'." (Wasn't too hard to get by.)

Alana didn't reply, and just crossed her arms and put her elbows on her knees. "Tvoy drug skazal, chto vy vyshli iz vstrechi." (Your friend said you walked out of the meeting.)

"Vy govorili v Barton ?" (You talked to Barton?) Alana looked over at Bucky, who nodded his head.

"On iskal tebya." (He was looking for you.) He told her, remembering how the older man had shown up again and told Bucky how Alana had stormed out. "On volnovalsya ." (He was worried.) She let out a dark chuckle, rolling her eyes. "Ty ne verish' mne?" (You don't believe me?)

Alana shrugged. She knew Clint would be worried, but she also knew exactly where he was. At her apartment waiting for her to return home. He wouldn't leave until they talked this over.

Starring out over the garage, Alana's gaze zoned in on the one floodlight that was left on. The workers had all gone home for the day, the main lights now shut off. Letting out a sigh, she leaned forward to rest her chin on her arms.

"Chto sluchilos'?" (What's wrong?) Bucky asked her, nudging her arm with his own to get her attention, the metal was cool against her skin.

"I'm fine." Alana didn't sound fine, or remotely feel fine. The growing pit of dread kept building up in her stomach. She didn't know how her family would take the news, didn't know how this would change her life.

She was an assassin. She worked undercover, covert operations. She stayed out of the spotlight, lingered more in the shadows than anything. That would be almost impossible now.

"No, you're not."

"Bucky, I'd rather not talk about it." Her voice was still soft, and the man beside her let out a breath.

"Fine, then how long are you going to be up here?" He got a shrug in response, though she still answered.

"I'm leaving soon."

"How about now? Sitting up here isn't going to make anything better." She knew Bucky was right, so she just nodded before pushing herself off the grate. Bucky stood beside her as she bent down to pick up her file. His eyes flashed towards it, but he didn't comment, knowing that now was not the time to ask what it was.

Alana looked up at him, forcing a small grin on her face that he returned with a smile that Bucky hoped was reassuring.

Their footsteps echoed through the empty hallways, the slow and steady beat giving Alana something to focus on. "I'll walk you to your room." She told Bucky after a few moments.

"I remember it being the other way around in the forties." Alana was met with his half-smile when she glanced up at James.

"Well, you can't leave the building and I live a little over a mile away." She shot down his attempt at joking with her.

"You're walking home alone?" Bucky had a faint memory of being taught to always walk a girl home, it was the gentlemanly thing to do, and sometimes, he remembered vaguely, the girl would invite him inside to stay the night. "What if someone gives you a hard time?"

"I'm one of the top assassins in the world, I think I can handle it, James." That was the first time in a week that she had called him James. Alana usually stuck with 'Bucky' now, she said it suited him more.

"I forgot about that." He admitted, "You don't really look the type."

She just hummed in agreement, settling into a silence that was uncommon for her. Bucky kept stealing glances down at her the whole way back to his room, and he paused outside his door before going inside. "You're sure you'll be okay?"

One end of her mouth quirked upwards and she nodded her head. "Of course, Buck." Alana could only think of a few people who were ever concerned about if she was feeling all right. Clint and Natasha of course, Steve as well, but besides those three, Alana really didn't have anyone else. Tommy cared, he was her brother after all, but he always let her be in whatever mood she was in. He never pried. "Goodnight." She told him, turning to head towards the facility exit.

"You're coming by tomorrow, right?" She glanced back at Bucky, who had his door open now.

"I come by every day." Alana got his half smile in response followed by a goodnight. She stuffed a hand in her pocket, the other white-knuckling her file the whole way home.

* * *

It was just passed midnight when Alana turned the lock to her apartment and pushed open the front door, the hinges creaking slightly in protest. She noticed the half finished beer that sat on her kitchen counter and the light still on above the stove, confirming her suspicions that Barton was there.

She could also hear his snores from inside her guest bedroom. Alana sighed, her feet dragging slightly as she turned off the stove light and grabbed his beer off the counter. She went over to her living room couch, flipping on the lamp that sat on the side table before taking a quick swig from the bottle. Setting it down, she finally opened up the file in front of her.

_Brewster Alana Mercer_

_S.T.R.I.K.E TEAM: DELTA_

_"Phoenix"_

_Date of Birth: April 16, 1987_

_Full S.H.I.E.L.D Status Received on November 11, 2007_

_Supervising Officer: Clinton Francis Barton_

Her official S.H.I.E.L.D portrait took up the rest of the page. She wasn't smiling; her hair was its natural color and had been cut short at the time, shaved on the sides.

As she looked at herself, Alana heard the snoring from down the hallway cease.

"I know you're awake." A moment later, she heard Clint getting out of bed. Alana looked up to see him leaning against the doorframe at the end of the hall. His arms were crossed over his chest as his blue eyes stared at her, blonde eyebrows raised.

"You ever see it?" He nodded his head towards the file.

"No." Access to her file required a level ten clearance. The only ones she knew of who had access to it were Natasha and Fury. Stark had probably seen it too, but he would have just stolen the encryption.

"If you hadn't stormed out, I was going to mention that not everything is in there." Barton was met with her confused face a moment later, her eyebrows drawn together as her lips pursed into a thin line. "Some of the information, it's too dangerous to have in your file. So we kept it as cognitive knowledge." He pushed himself upright and made his way over to sit down beside her.

"What's…" she trailed off, turning to the next page instead.

Skimming over the words, Alana read about her recruitment into S.H.I.E.L.D, where she was found, how Barton approached her. She didn't see a single member of her family listed. Alana did see, however, the fact that her father was not in her life. That fact was noted, though the full details remained unstated.

"There're gaps in this." She noted aloud as she noticed some unclear sentences. Alana started skipping pages, her mind knowing the missions she was on but not seeing them in full print.

Venezuela was mentioned only by name, but her role wasn't ever stated. The same went for Dubai, Budapest, Tegucigalpa, Syria, and Madrid.

Major government missions that shaped her career, and there was not a thing on her exact actions. "This was tampered."

Clint was smirking when she looked up at him and he shook his head, "Cognitive knowledge. It was never typed out."

"Okay, so we can still be traced?" It came out as a question towards the end, "And people can still find out about-"

"The only thing about Batswana in there is that you went into it solo."

"And the imprisonment?"

"Someone thought they were creative and wrote that you took a wrong turn getting yourself out." Clint told her, taking the file from her hand and placing it on the coffee table out of her reach. "Never says anything about getting sick."

"My family still knows about all this."

"So what?" Clint grinned again at her, "They'll get used to it, and if not, you're still stuck with me and Tasha." He put his arm around her shoulders, pulling her into his side affectionately.

Alana knew he was right, and she felt bad for storming away earlier. She wouldn't apologize though, and she knew Barton didn't expect her to. The ball of dread in her stomach unknotted just a little bit, and the easing of pressure made Alana finally feel how exhausted she really was.

"Where is she, by the way?" Alana asked, referring to Natasha, and let out a yawn while she leaned into Clint, her head resting on his shoulder.

"Belarus, I think." She felt him rest his chin atop her head, "Or Paris."

"The safe house." He hummed in affirmation. Her eyes slipped closed, and her tense muscles began to relax. She listened to his deep breathing until she fell asleep, the feeling of his arm around her a familiar one, and a sense of security that she hadn't felt in almost a year had returned.


	6. Chapter 5

**Thanks so much for all the reviews, favorites, and follows! I love all of them!**

**So this chapter, I tried playing with accents more, especially with Alana, as you'll see, fingers crossed I didn't totally fail. Thanks again for all your feedback! It's spring break this week so hopefully I can post again soon!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Captain America, Bucky Barnes, or anything else in this story except for Alana. If I owned Bucky Barnes then I wouldn't be writing this right now ;)**

**Also a note that I know nothing about guns/electricity/cyber-mechanics so all that I ever write about that is from what I've googled.**

* * *

_"Loneliness is my least favorite thing about life. The thing that I'm most worried about is just being alone without anybody to care for or someone who will care for me." –Anne Hathaway_

* * *

Clint watched her from his spot on the couch, noting how she kept running a nervous hand through her hair and glancing out the window as the phone continued to ring. Alana didn't know what to expect when her brother answered the phone, she didn't know if she _wanted _him to answer the phone.

She reminded herself to never let Clint talk her into anything again.

"Hello?" She froze in her tracks, sent a panicked glance towards her SO at the sound of her brother's voice, but Clint just nodded his head and gave her a thumbs up.

Alana flipped him off before speaking.

"Tommy." Her voice came out higher than usual, and she continued her pacing.

"Brewster." He sounded mad at her, if using her real name didn't give it away, his pissed off tone of voice sure did. "You get a new phone? The number was different." Alana took note that his accent was getting weaker.

Growing up near Boston, the two siblings had always had the strong accent. Alana knew how to hide it because of her job; Tommy was losing it after moving to Colorado ten years ago.

"Yeah, yes." She let out a breath, "I was issued'a new one." Talking to him, she slipped back into it easily.

"S.H.I.E.L.D?" She could hear the hint of betrayal, and could picture him glaring at the wall.

"Listen, Tommy, I'm not goin' to explain this over the phone to yah."

"Fly out here, then. Or maybe, what would've been a great idea, was to actually fuckin' tell me about it earlier!" He swore at her, and Alana's hand curled into a fist, making Clint's eyebrows draw together.

"I _couldn't_ tell you." She spoke slowly, trying to keep her temper in check. "It was for your own good."

"So I found out over the Internet?" He spat back, "It was a real surprise, that's for sure."

"I can get'a plane for yah by next week." She positive that Stark wouldn't mind helping her out; he owed her a favor anyways.

"I don't even know where you are!"

"Washington DC." Alana looked out over the ruins of the Triskelion, "Stark Industries will be pickin' yah up-"

"How in the hell are you going to get Stark Industries to give me a ride to DC?" Tommy challenged, disbelief clear in each word, as though he was mocking her.

"Tony owes me." She said simply.

"Tony _Stark_?" He asked, "You know _Tony Stark_?!"

"I have 'im on speed dial."

"You're joking."

"As much as a Jew jokes 'bout the Holocaust." There was silence on the other line for a few moments, and Alana thought Tommy hung up on her for a moment before she heard him let out a breath.

"Can you answer one question over the phone?" He sounded as though he was pleading with her. It was the same tone of voice he'd used when he would ask her for the tenth time to stop doing something when they were kids.

_Stop bouncin' yah damn leg._

_Stop pokin' me!_

_Can you not pick a fight at school today?_

"'Course." She bit her bottom lip, a nervous habit, as she waited for his question.

"You're not a police officer at all, are you?" Alana let out a short laugh, just a breath through her nose before answering.

"Nope."

* * *

"You're here later than usual." Bucky said as he opened his door, his lips up in a half-smirk. He was wearing his S.H.I.E.L.D t-shirt and a pair of cargo pants. One hand was on the door handle, the other rested lazily in his pocket.

"I was talkin' to my brother this mornin'." She explained, slipping past him and into the room. Bucky was silent, and when she turned around; he was starring at her from the doorway looking puzzled. "What?"

"Your accent." Alana raised her eyebrows at him. "You never had one before."

"Oh." She shrugged as she took off her jacket and tossed it to it's usual spot on his dresser. "Slips back after I talk to family sometimes." He nodded, finally closing the door.

"How'd that go?"

Alana watched as he walked over, took a seat on the bed and patted the spot beside him. Alana fought the smile that pulled at the ends of her lips as she walked over and sat beside him before answering.

"Wasn't too pissed at me." She shrugged her shoulders, "Was a fuckin' prick at first 'bout it." Alana let out a bark of a laugh at Bucky's slack-jawed expression. "What?"

"Nothing. I've just never heard a dame swear like that." Alana elbowed him in the side.

"_Don't _call me a dame. One, folks don't say that anymore. Two, I went over this with Steve, took me nearly two months to get him to stop calling me a dame and referring to me as ma'am." Her eyes widened after she finished speaking, she hadn't meant to bring up Steve. They hadn't talked about him yet.

"I'll try to remember that." Was Bucky's simple reply. He didn't mention Steve, didn't ask about his old best friend, for that, Alana was thankful. "He calm down about the whole thing?"

"Yeah," Alana put her hands together in front of herself, cracking her knuckles and wringing her fingers together, "He's gunna come visit in two weeks." She got silent after that, her expression falling into one that Bucky didn't like.

The feeling of a large calloused hand covering her own made Alana's hands go still. "Last night, I did some thinkin', after you left." Bucky told her, his voice low, "When you first came in here, I thought you were just some doctor who would sit and make me start talkin' to you. But you're not. You're 'a friend t'me. I was talkin' to your friend yesterday. He told me that you went through some pretty tough times, and I" Bucky let out a nervous chuckle, and Alana looked up at him, her eyebrows drawn together, "I'm 'ere for you, Alana, just like you bein' 'ere for me."

"Thanks, Bucky." She smiled at him, a real broad smile, and it reminded Bucky of the thought he'd had for the first time two weeks ago.

She was beautiful. Not out-of-this-world beautiful, or beautiful like the actresses in the films they had been watching together, but beautiful in a simple way. In the way that, if you looked at her real quick, you might miss it, but if you really _looked _at her it was plain to see.

And when she smiled? When she smiled Bucky thought she practically glowed.

"-I shot the ol' guy yesterday 'cause-"

"_What_?"

"Yah weren't paying attention." She shook her head in amusement.

"Sorry." Bucky took his hand off of hers, "What were you sayin'?"

"I asked about your therapy sessions." Bucky nodded his head, "How're they goin'?"

"Good. I'm going to them, if that's what you're asking."

"Good. So, I was talkin' to the people in charge around 'ere. As long as you keep gettin' better, you might just get to move in a couple'a months."

"What am I goin' to do after that?"

"Whatever you want. Work for S.H.I.E.L.D, find some other job, find a girl." Alana shrugged her shoulders, "Of course, my door will always be open if yah need any help."

"What if you're not home?" He teased, and Alana smirked at him, raising her eyebrows in a 'whatever' kind of face.

"Door's always locked. Though, you could sit outside my front door in order to feel closer to me if the heartache is just too much for yah to bear." She teased him, "Might scare the Johnsons though."

"_Right_, don't know how I'll survive." Bucky rolled his eyes dramatically, getting Alana to laugh. He joined in a moment later, their laughter filling the room.

"But really," She spoke up after they both calmed down, "If you wanted, you could live a normal life."

"I think I'm passed that point already," Bucky shrugged, "I was born in 1916."

"So we'll get you some fake ID's." She waved her hand like it was no big deal, "Besides, it's only one option."

"What're you doing? After this is all over?"

"I try not to plan too far ahead, just in case I, you know, get killed."

* * *

Alana took in a breath, the butt of the rifle in the pocket of her shoulder as she closed one eye, looking down the scope at the target that hung on the other end of the firing range.

She had been given the order to start prepping for her re-evaluation yesterday morning. Once she passed, she would once again be cleared for field duty. She had opted to come here, the S.H.I.E.L.D firing range, before going to see Bucky.

Her left hip was angled slightly in front of her right, her left hand steadying the weapon close to the trigger guard as she switched off the safety before letting out a breath.

The shot echoed in the empty room, and was quickly followed by three more as Alana drew back the slide bolt for more rounds.

She flipped the safety back on afterwards, placed the rifle on the table beside her and pressed the button to turn on the warning light out of habit. No one else was here, but the red light that not illuminated the range would warn anyone not to shoot.

Alana used to forget all the time, until finally Natasha shot her in the calf to prove the point that it was necessary. Alana never forgot to press the damn button after that.

She stood in front of the firing paper, inspecting her shooting accuracy when she heard the minute creak of the door opening. Spinning on her heel, Alana watched as an agent rushed into the room. He looked around frantically before his eyes settled on her.

"Agent Mercer!" He called out, jogging over, his eyes slightly panicked. "There's a problem in the weight room, Sergeant Barnes-" That's when she stopped listening and dashed for the door. Alana threw it open, her feet skidding on the tile flooring as she rushed towards the gym.

She could hear the younger agent behind her working to keep up, and other employees parted when they heard her coming. She turned the corner to the gym, and then she could hear the yelling.

The screaming, that would be a better word for it. Alana had never heard it before, but she knew it was Bucky right away.

Alana burst through the doors, quickly noticing the small group of people who had gathered around one area of the gym. She strode in the direction, barely making out the dark haired man who starred wild-eyed at everyone around him. He was clearly fighting an internal battle, his fingers bent in and digging into his palms. She could see the blood that was already flowing down his right arm.

Her jaw clenched when she saw an agent take a step towards Bucky, who flinched without even being touched.

"You touch 'im and I'll shoot you." The group parted when they heard her, the agent who had taken a step forward quickly backing out of the way. Bucky was still screaming as he clenched his eyes shut, after the scream was over he started speaking so fast that it took her a moment to recognize that he was using Russian.

"Bucky?" Alana crouched down in front of him slowly; his eyes still screwed shut, seeing faraway images drawn up from his brain. "Bucky, can yah look at me?" She remembered doing this same thing for Steve that she's doing now. Since Bucky isn't fighting, she won't make a move to start one.

His breathing was still erratic, and then he let out another scream, Alana put her hands on either side of his face. He started, his eyes snapping open and his head shaking a little to the side.

"Come on, Bucky, it's okay. You're not there, whateva' it is, you're not there." She ran her thumb along his cheekbone, hoping the touch would bring him back. Slowly, his eyes found her face, and Alana let herself grin when his eyes look into her own. "There yah are, darlin'. I can't leave you alone for two seconds, can I?" She keeps talking, knowing how it'll help him bring himself back. "I was practicin' my shooting. Haven't gotten to use the rifle in a while. Four outta four kill shots, one was almost off though, I'm losin' my touch."

She glanced down at his hands, and slowly ran her palms down his arms to hold them. Sparks emitted from his left as she unclenched the tight fist, while blood streamed from the right. "I can fix yah up. Just need some medical supplies and a toolbox."

"How 'bout we go back to your room for that?" She raised her eyebrows in question, and Bucky's face continued to remain neutral. Alana still didn't like the tortured look in his eyes, and she let go of his right hand to run her fingers through his hair softly, pushing it off his sweaty forehead. Her lips pursed together as she got some of the blood that was from his hand on his face.

"Alana?" His voice was rough; Alana made a mental note to get him some water as soon as she could, and pushed a smile onto her face.

"Yeah, Bucky, it's me."

"Alana." She nodded again, still watching as his eyes started to focus more on her face, the haunted, faraway look waning away.

"Come on, Bucky, let's get you up. Can you stand up?" She ran her hand down the side of his face and underneath his jaw until she held his chin up so it was level and she was starring right into his blue eyes. "Bucky, I need you to stand up for me, okay?" She dropped her hand and he nodded his head slowly. "I'm right here, everything's okay." His arms were shaking, sparks coming out of his metal hand every few moments, but Alana still positioned herself underneath it in order to help him to his feet. "There ya go." She encouraged Bucky quietly as she helped him to his feet. "Let's go, come on, nobody's gunna bother us." She sent a glare to the people who were still there watching, and a few of them looking away from her as Alana started to slowly walk Bucky towards the door.

He was exhausted. His body was still shaking slightly, his skin covered in a cold sweat and his feet dragged as they went along. The cybernetic arm kept spazzing, electric shocks coming from where Bucky's metal fingers had dug through. Supporting him on his left side, Alana grit her teeth every time the shock went from his hand into her body. She kept talking to Bucky, trying to keep him distracted and awake until they at least got to his room.

"Come on now, don't make me carry all ya weight."

"Alana."

"Yeah, I'm right 'ere. We're almost there, hon." Bucky's knee gave out suddenly, and Alana turned herself quickly so that her stance was wider and she could catch him, keeping the soldier up on his feet. "_Bucky_." His whole arm was draped over her back, and the shock that ran through her was stronger than it had been before. "On our feet, soldier." She grit out as she pushed him back up more. His head hung forwards, but he picked his feet up nonetheless as they rounded the corner towards his room.

Alana was supporting almost all of Bucky's weight on her shoulders by the time they reached his door. "You should'a locked this." She mumbled when she found the door already open and practically dragged him inside. "Bathroom, Bucky, you can sit on the counter, 'kay?"

She had only been in his bathroom a few times in the past month. Alana hadn't been surprised to see how clean he kept it, and even now, she didn't have to clear off anything before helping him up onto the counter, his back against the mirror. She was slow to back away from him, making sure he wouldn't fall forwards and onto the floor in his exhaustion.

"I'll be right back, you stay awake." She cupped his face in her hands as she spoke, forcing him to look her in the eyes so she knew he heard her. Bucky managed a nod, and then she was gone, walking out of the bathroom and through his room to look out into the hallway.

"Hey!" She grabbed a dark haired man's arm as he walked past. He flinched, his brown eyes snapping over to her and widening once he saw who she was. "Get me a toolbox." She said, letting go of his arm before adding, "Please."

"Sure thing, Agent Mercer." The older man told her before continuing at a faster pace down the hall.

She closed the door and returned to the bathroom, letting out a sigh of relief when she saw Bucky was still on the countertop. He was slouched over, his arms resting on his thighs, palms held upwards.

She grabbed a glass first, filling it with cold water and slowly helping the exhausted ex-assassin drink. When she stepped away from him, his head hung limply once again.

He didn't look up as Alana opened and closed cabinets looking for the necessary medical supplies. She knew all S.H.I.E.L.D containment rooms were always fully stocked with first aid supplies. As much as she always ignored the fact that this was a containment room, not just Bucky's room as she always referred to it as in her mind, she was glad now that she knew the layout.

She filled a water basin up with warm water underneath the sink while she used her key to unlock the main medical cabinet. From inside, she took out gauze tape and pads, ointment, and a pair of medical scissors. They were kept in the locked portion as a precaution.

S.H.I.E.L.D didn't want anyone trying to take his or her life when no one was watching. The thought made Alana glance up at Bucky.

He would never, she told herself, he wouldn't do that. They had talked about a lot of things, but suicide was never one of them. She never thought that he would be thinking of it, he'd never said anything or done anything to make her think so.

Then again, neither did she, but that didn't mean she hadn't considered it.

Alana shook her head to rid it of the thoughts, but made a note to ask him about it later on regardless. She turned off the water before placing the basin right beside Bucky's right side.

"This might hurt." She warned him as she took a hold of his right hand, holding it up as she pressed a sterile gauze pad to the cuts. If it hurt at all, he didn't show it. "Gotta wait for the bleedin' to stop." She looked up at him, his eyes struggling to stay open as he starred down at his hand that she held. "I should've come to see you earlier." Her voice was soft as the guilt settled in her stomach, "If I did, I would've been there to help. You wouldn't be off this bad."

"No." He didn't even look up as he spoke, "Not your fault."

"If-"

"Not your fault." He cut her off, "Didn't know." _This would happen_. She could fill in the rest of what he was saying. Alana knew he was right, but it didn't make her feel any less guilty about it.

"I'm proud of you," She let him know instead, "Saw how hard you were trying to keep yourself together." Lifting the gauze pad, Alana checked the cut. The bleeding had ceased, and she lifted his hand to place it in the warm water, watching as the blood lifted away from Bucky's skin. "That's why you're so damn tired." She grabbed a washcloth next, soaking a corner of it underneath the warm water coming from the sink and set to work wiping the blood and sweat off his face. He leaned into her hand, his expression neutral as he just starred at her as she worked. "That's better." She folded up the towel when she was done, placing it on a nearby drying rack.

"Mmm." There was a knock on the door, Alana's gaze switched between Bucky and the doorway before she threw away the bloodied gauze pad and left the bathroom.

The man she grabbed in the hallway stood there with a toolbox. She took it from him, then thanked him quickly before asking his name. "Gary Newman." He told her, and she thanked him again before closing the door, turning the lock, and making her way back to Bucky.

For the next twenty minutes Alana sat in front of Bucky and cleaned his hand. He didn't complain, or show any signs of pain as she worked, but to keep the older man awake, she kept talking the whole time. She knew that sleeping wouldn't hurt him now, but she wanted him awake to tell her if she hurt him at all. At first, Alana just explained what she was doing, but soon noticed that did not hold his attention. When she started talking about herself however, she saw him making more of an effort to stay awake.

"Seven years ago, almost eight now I think, that's when I first met Clint. Tommy had left two years before that, couldn't take it anymore at home, so I was still with our mother." Alana's lips pursed together as she kept scrubbing his hand and then rinsed it again. "Met up with some new people, got into the wrong crowd I guess. I always got inta' fights when I was a kid, didn't like it when those guys picked on the little guys." She let out a chuckle, "I ended up with those guys, thought I was all that. Told me I was special. I did things for'em. Got some drugs, stole some stuff, told me I was their girl. We'd go to an underground fight club a lot, I'd watch the boys pummel each other."

Taking his hand out of the water, Alana dries it off with a towel, glancing up to see Bucky watching her. "I was good at it, real good. Hanging out with all of'em. Then Clint found me out. Apparently I had been on S.H.I.E.L.D radar for a while, said it was 'cause of my father. Anyway, I started seein' Barton at most of the fights. He found out where they were, he'd watch from the back corner."

She reached over, grabbing a roll of gauze tape and held Bucky's hand open so she could wrap it properly. "Shit hit the fan back at home with my mom, I couldn't make it to see those guys no more. Those guys who I thought were my friends, not so much once I backed out." Alana tucked the end of the roll into another fold to secure it, putting a piece of tape over the top to hold it on.

"Stay with me, Bucky, I'm almost done, then you can sleep." She moves to his other side, opening the toolbox and taking a hold of the cybernetic arm. Alana twisted his arm over slightly to inspect the prosthetic.

"What, what happened next?"

"Hmm?" She asked him, focusing more on the arm than anything else.

"After yah quit." He clarified, and Alana nodded her head.

"Right." Her lips pulled up when she found the way to open part of the arm, a small panel flipping upwards to reveal a complexity of wires. "Huh." Her lips pursed together in thought as she studied it, but she continued telling Bucky about herself. "Well, those guys started followin' me around. Just to piss me off at first, then they got rough. Shovin' me, called me some pretty awful names to get a rise outta me." Alana twisted one wire, her mouth falling open when the whole limb went limp. "Oops."

"Can't feel it, now." Bucky told her, and Alana looked up to see him manage his trademark smirk, "Won't hurt me when you fuck it up."

"Hey, I won't." she told him, getting a doubtful look from Bucky, "I almost know what I'm doing."

"Reassuring."

"That's why you're stayin' awake for me. Let me know if I'm hurtin' yah." Bucky slowly turned his head to look at what Alana was doing to his arm.

"There's another panel, in the palm. Should open now since you disabled the whole thing." She followed his instructions and found the source of the problem. While he was digging his fingers into the palm he had severed one of the main wires.

Alana worked quickly, being thankful that the toolbox she was brought had a wide array of tools as she electrically fused the wire back together. Forced electrically lessons from Tony Stark were finally paying off. Bucky chimed in every few minutes to help when he could, but Alana could tell how hard he was trying to stay awake.

It only took a little over fifteen minutes for her to fix Bucky's cybernetic arm and get it back so that he had control. Alana didn't say a word as she helped him off the counter and into the other room. Slowly, she lowered him to the bed, propped him up on some pillows, and pulled the covers up over him.

"You didn't finish the story." Alana chuckled and ran a hand through his hair without hesitation, pushing it back so that it didn't stick to his forehead.

"It's a terrible story."

"What happened next?" She sighed, rolled her eyes, and grinned down at him from where she sat on the edge of his bed.

"Things got rough, guys jumped me in the streets. I could fight, but I couldn't fight'em all off, I wasn't _that _good back then." She stopped talking as Bucky's eyes closed.

"Keep goin'." He told her, "I'm listenin'."

"Jumped me, beat me up real good. Then Clint came in from nowhere, saved me. I was real scared after that, all jumpy n' weary of everyone. I didn't wanna be like that. I wanted to take out the bad guys and not be scared of'em." Alana shrugged her shoulders, "So when Clint offered, I said yes."

"Hey," Alana looked down at Bucky, raising her eyebrows at him in question, her head tilting to the side slightly. "I think you're beautiful." She blushed instantly, her ears and cheeks turning red, and he smiled.

"Go to sleep, James."


	7. Chapter 6

**I saw Age of Ultron this week and it was awesome! I got two chapters up in a week for this story, which is pretty cool too! Thanks for all the favorites and follows! I'd love to get more reviews to know what you all think! Reviews are very motivating to write chapters faster!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing except for Alana and Tommy**

* * *

_I was in the war. I know how to kill. I was over there. I know how to do it. I've done it before. It's no big deal. You just make an adjustment. You convince yourself it's all right. That's all. It's easy. You just slaughter them. –Sam Shepard_

* * *

"Why're you getting ready here?" Bucky asked for the third time from his spot on his bed. He was leaning against the pillows he had stacked up, his arms folded over his chest and his legs outstretched in front of him, his ankles crossed over each other.

The door to his bathroom was open a few inches, Alana running a comb through her just-washed hair on the other side. A towel was the only thing wrapped around her body, which Bucky was trying not to think about.

"'Cause we're going out to dinner, and where I'm meetin' 'im is closer to here than my place is." She winced as the comb caught on a tangle.

"You said you lived close by." Bucky pointed out, his expression turning thoughtful.

"Ten minutes away. Walkin' there, getting ready and then walkin' to the meet up location while passing this very building seemed like a waste of twenty minutes." Alana set her comb back in the bag she had brought with her and took out a hairdryer.

"Sure you didn't just wanna spend time with me?" Bucky's only answer was the sound of Alana turning on the dryer. The dark haired man shrugged his shoulders, a smirk on his face. He sure didn't mind having her here.

Every since Alana had been given the go ahead to start prepping for her evaluation, Bucky had seen less of her. Not much less, she still came by every day to spend time with him and help him out, but he wasn't allowed near the shooting ranges yet.

She made up for it though, tried to at least. Alana would stay later and eat dinner with Bucky in the cafeteria; the two would discuss that day's therapy session or just how he was feeling in general.

Bucky would ask how she was doing too, and Alana told him how she had only been stopped a few times on the streets because someone recognized her. Her file being leaked hadn't had too much of an impact on her life, though the biggest confrontation was happening in just over an hour.

Tommy was coming to town.

"Hey, Bucky?" He looked up to watch Alana poke her head around the door. He swallowed when he saw a bare shoulder, her dark hair hanging in waves over it.

"Yeah?"

"Black or blue?" His brow furrowed.

"What?"

"Pick one." She told him, and Bucky rolled his eyes.

"Black." She nodded her head before disappearing behind the door again.

"We're goin' to a steakhouse, I could bring yah back something." She offered as Bucky heard a zipper being undone and the rustling of fabric.

"No thanks, I-" Bucky's words stopped when she came into view, his jaw hanging open slightly.

He had never seen her with makeup on before, or in something so fitting. Bucky didn't even remember dresses being that short. What Alana had on stopped more than halfway up her thighs and hugged every curve of her body. It had a sweeping neckline that dipped down just enough that Bucky could see the tops of her breasts and, from there, the dress had sleeves that went down to her wrists.

Bucky noticed the silver necklace that hung around her neck. An arrow charm hanging from the silver chain, and he guessed that it must have been a gift from Barton.

His eyes drifted back up to her face, which wasn't done up a lot, just enough for him to notice that her eyes looked sharper, her features more defined, and that one eyebrow was cocked up at him.

"Uh, you look great." She made a face in response, lifting her hand up slightly, which made the pair of heels she had hooked on two fingers dangle slightly.

"These won't be fun. But thank you."

"T-this is dinner with your _brother_?" Bucky really wanted clarification. If this was going out with her brother, he wondered what going out with a date would look like.

"Paula Mercer raised her children dead set that they'd be admired wherever they went. It is a nice restaurant, and I'd bet money that Tommy will be dressed up too. I may hate my motha', but old habits die hard."

Bucky just nodded, having learned not to pry when it came to Alana's mother. She glanced at the clock on his nightstand, and then to the door before looking back at Bucky while running a hand through her long hair. "Yah took your meds, right?"

"Yes, ma'am." He grinned as she scowled at him. "Go pick up your brother." He waved a hand absently towards the door, watching as she sat to put on her heels, "Whoa, you might be taller than me in those."

"Shut up." She laughed, glad again that Bucky had started to really open up. He was teasing her more often, making jokes, trying to start conversations. He had his days where he was still closed off and didn't want to talk much, but he was getting better. "Yah sure you don't want me to bring yah anything back?"

"I feel like you'll bring me back something no matter what I say." Her smile was his response, confirming Bucky's suspicions. "Cheapest thing on the menu."

"Yah don't like salads." She pointed out, knowing that's what he'd get if she listened.

"Cheapest thing from the meat section on the menu." He corrected his previous statement and Alana nodded her head, standing up from the chair. She ran a hand through her hair again, giving away her unvoiced nervousness. "You're going to be late."

"I'm leaving!" She said, moving towards the door, opening it slowly, "Goodnight, Bucky."

"Goodnight." He half-smirked, half-grinned and the familiar expression put Alana a little bit at ease. Ever since his flashback in the gym last week, she was hesitant to leave him alone. Bucky looked perfectly fine though, and she knew he'd be okay for the rest of the night.

After the door closed, Bucky leaned back into the pillows on his bed, looking down at his healing hand, and wondered again what she would wear going out on a date.

* * *

Alana had a smile on her face as she watched the airplane door open, and a familiar tall blonde made his way down the stairs to the runway. The Stark Industries seal was on the side of the private jet, and Alana smirked as she raised her hand up in the air.

The twenty-nine year old was dressed up for dinner like she'd expected. He wore the gray sweater Alana had given him for Christmas three years ago over a white collared shirt. He had put on black pants to complete the look, and even combed back his hair.

Tommy Mercer's head lifted up a bit higher when he saw his younger sister, and his steps got longer the closer he got. Once they finally reached each other, Alana threw her arms around him, holding her older brother close as he wound his arms around her waist, lifting her up in the air. "Alana!" Even though he was mad at her, the siblings hadn't seen each other face to face in over a year.

"Tommy!" She shrieked, getting his deep laugh in response as he set her back on her feet, his hands on her shoulders as he took a step back to look her over. She made a face, and took in his natural blonde hair, brown eyes, and grinned when she saw he also wore the black tie she had given him years ago.

"You look better," he said, his lips pulling upwards, "better than last I saw you."

Her lips turned down at the reminder. She had been sick when he last saw her. She had gotten back from Batswana only a few months before, and Clint and Natasha had thought it'd do her some good to see Tommy.

Physically, she did look better. Tommy noticed that she had put weight back on, but the look in her eyes was still there. It unnerved him, and he could never quite put a name to it. Knowing now that she was an assassin, he had compared it to the look he saw in the eyes of war veterans. Alana was different though, something more was there that Tommy chose to ignore, putting a grin on his face instead.

"Thanks, yah look a little worse though, I think layin' off the ice cream would do'yah some good." His hands dropped from her shoulders and he glanced at the watch that he wore on his wrist. "What?"

"Twenty four seconds," He raised his eyebrows, "I've been with you for twenty four seconds and you already made fun of me."

"I'm sorry," Sarcasm dripped from her words, "It's how I show my love."

"Ha. Ha." He deadpanned, "Those dudes aren't going to steal my luggage are they? Said they'd bring it to your place but-"

"They will." Alana promised, looking back over her shoulder to wave thank you to the two agents as she lead Tommy towards the walkway that would lead back to the main streets of DC.

"And that is Tony Stark's plane." She glanced up at Tommy, who shook his head in disbelief, "You weren't kidding."

"No, I wasn't. Tony was surprisingly willing to lend it out."

"Right, you're friends with Tony Stark. Anyone else?" He slung his arm over her shoulders, noticing how she flinched slightly, but didn't comment.

"Uh, well, you know Clint-"

"He's Hawkeye, right?" She nodded, "I figured that one out."

"Yes, and then, you know what? Remember aliens attacking New York?"

"Yes?" Tommy said slowly, "The Avengers, they all-" He stopped talking and walking at the same time, and Alana looked up at him, confusion written across her face. "Y-you're saying that." He pointed a finger at her, his mouth opening and closing. "Y-your."

"Words, Thomas, we use words to communicate."

"You're an Avenger." It wasn't a question, but a statement, and Alana just smiled softly and nodded. She was glad he figured it out before they reached the main streets, it was better that he learned this in private. "Captain America?"

"I was the one who helped integrate him back into society." Her smile widened, "Remember my friend Steven I always tell you about?"

"You're a terrible person."

"We're gunna be late."

* * *

"So, you're really an assassin?" Tommy asked from across the table, looking at his younger sister and wondering how he never figured it out.

She sighed, annoyed with how many times she had to say it. Even though they were sitting at the most secluded table in the whole restaurant, she was still weary of listening ears. She had checked their table already to see if it was bugged out of habit before she told Tommy anything.

He knew most of the basic details now: her recruitment, her training, some basic missions. He knew she was an Avenger, knew she worked with Captain America, Iron Man, Black Widow, and S.H.I.E.L.D.

She left out the big stuff.

Budapest, Madrid, Moscow, Tegucigalpa, Batswana. She left out how she was different from everyone else.

Alana didn't want to scare her older brother.

"Yes." He nodded, his lips tight.

"I'm still trying to process it is all." Alana took another bite of her steak; aware of every possible way this situation could turn deadly.

In the back of her mind, she had fourteen different plans of attack for anything that could go wrong. She kept the steak knife a little closer to herself, she figured she could use the candle holder as a weapon if she had to, and she knew the fastest way out of the restaurant and to the back streets.

She wasn't paranoid; it was just how she was programmed. It was her training, her _job_ to think that way.

"That's fine." She lied, wishing he'd get it already.

"Have you," Tommy paused, putting down his fork, "Have you gotten hurt?" Alana nodded, taking another bite from her plate. Potatoes this time.

"I'd rather not talk about that." Her voice was polite, and she said it as though she was telling him the weather forecast wasn't looking very good for the next week.

"Don't they contact family?" He pushed, "All hospitals contact family when someone's seriously injured."

"They contact Clint." Alana looked up from her plate now, and saw the hurt in her brother's eyes, "and Natasha, and now they even let Tony and Steve know. I wouldn't be surprised if Bruce is even informed."

"But not me?" It was rhetorical, "Not Mom-"

"Why the _hell_ would I ever want her to know?" Alana snapped, her hands clenching into fists on the table. A couple who sat a few yards away glanced over at her tone of voice, but quickly looked elsewhere. "She doesn't have the right to know, and she won't know any of this. None of it, Tommy." Alana lowered her voice, leaning closer to him so he would still hear.

"That's fine, Alana. I get that, I do." He let out a sigh, choosing his next words carefully. "But if you ever almost died, I'd like to know."

"If I died, then they would tell you. _Almost _die?" She made a face, "I've been there more than a few times."

"Nice to know." Tommy stabbed a piece of his fish, the fork clinking against the plate.

"They'll tell yah now. But yah have to understand, it was for you're safety. All I want is for yah to stay safe." He just nodded, and the two lapsed into silence. Minutes passed by, and the waiter came by to ask if they were all set. As Tommy opened his mouth to ask for the bill, but Alana cut in.

"Can I have a prime rib to go, please? Medium rare, side of the house vegetables and potatoes."

"Of course." Their waiter nodded, scribbling it down on his notepad before heading towards the kitchen.

"Who's that for?" Tommy asked, his eyebrows near his hairline.

"A friend. I'm workin' with 'im right now as my mission. Told'em I'd bring'em some food. Cafeteria gets old pretty fast."

"He's a guy?" Tommy grinned at his little sister.

"Yes, and he's my friend." Her brother grinned wider, and Alana glared at him, "Just a friend." But Tommy saw how his sister smiled when she talked about him. She hadn't smiled like that all night, not even when she spoke of Clint.

"You gotta picture?" He asked, and Alana sighed, digging into her purse to find her phone.

"I'd like to clarify that the only reason I have this is because I was helping him learn how to use a cell phone." That part was true. Alana was working on getting Bucky issued his own cell phone, so if he ever needed her help, he could just call. To do that, he needed to know how to work one, so she had taught him using her own.

He was scheduled to receive one of his own in a few days.

Alana found the one picture of Bucky Barnes she had saved on her phone and turned it around for Tommy to see.

Her brother raised his eyebrows as he studied the picture.

The man had a broad face, dark hair hanging down slightly to cover his forehead. He was smirking at the camera, an eyebrow quirked upwards slightly as though he was impressed by what he was seeing. His eyes were set widely apart on his face, but it was the look in those green eyes that made Tommy pause.

There was something there that he couldn't put a name too. Haunted was the closest thing he could come up with, and when he glanced back at his younger sister, he knew that was what looked different about her as well.

She was holding something from him, something big that caused a part of her to break, just like the man whose picture he looked back at. "He's cute." Alana laughed at Tommy's comment, but her older brother didn't miss the blush that crept up her neck slightly.

His younger sister always blushed around guys she liked or when they were mentioned. "What's his name?"

"James." She even smiled when she said his name. Tommy raised his eyebrows, asking for a last name, but she shook her head. "Afraid I can't tell yah his last name. Classified." Alana pulled her phone back closer to herself, glancing down at the picture one last time before flipping the device shut.

"You know, you can delete pictures if that was only to show him how to use it." Tommy shrugged his shoulders, took one last bite of his dinner before leaning back in his chair and added, "Of course, if you wanted to keep it because you like him that's understandable."

"We're _friends!_" She said again, the blush creeping back up and reaching the tips of her ears.

"Yeah, friends, I get that." He waved off her comment, grinning as she mock-glared at him. She may be a world-class assassin, he realized, but she was still his sister.

* * *

Whenever Tommy came to visit, Alana always had to take down some of the pictures she had in her apartment. This time, however, she just kept them up.

As she came out from her bedroom after changing into her pajamas she found her brother looking over the frames. She quietly made her way over to see which one he was looking at, and let out a laugh.

Tommy's head snapped to face her in surprise, as he jumped slightly, not having heard her walk up behind him. "That's from one of Tony's parties."

"I recognized the Avengers' tower from pictures I've seen." Her brother glanced back at her, "How come you don't live there?"

"Oh, I do." She shrugged, "Only when I'm in New York though, I have a whole floor to myself, we all do."

"Why're you not there now?"

"James is here." Tommy looked at her with raised eyebrows, and Alana rolled her eyes at him, walking over to her vinyl record player and turning it on, placing the cartridge at the edge of the record.

The Beatles filled the room, and Tommy noticed right away how his younger sister didn't sing along. She always sang along, but now, she only had a small grin on her face.

Growing up, the two had always played music together. Tommy played the piano, and Alana would sing along.

He hadn't heard his sister sing in almost five years. Even then, their mother had insisted they do something at the family Christmas gathering that year.

Tommy looked back to the photograph, jealously bubbling up as he noticed how Clint Barton and Natasha Romanoff really were Alana's family now. They sat on a couch together in Stark Tower in the picture, Alana sitting between the two other assassins, a real smile taking up her whole face.

"Brewster?" Her head snapped up when he used her real name, and Alana stood up straighter as Tommy made his way into her kitchen, resting his elbows on the granite countertop.

"Yeah?"

"Last question," He told her, and she nodded. "Are you happy?"

"Tom-"

"Doing this, I mean, are you happy?" He interrupted her, wanting to get his whole question out.

"I kill people, Tommy." She tugged at the sweatshirt she wore, not looking at him, "I need yah to get that. I'm given a target, and a time frame, and I get the job done. 'Cause if I don't, God knows a lot more people are gunna die. That's how I justify it all, that's what my therapist says at least." She shrugged her shoulders, "But I have good friends, and I know they have my back, and I know you do too."

"But are you happy?" He pushed, knowing that she was avoiding the question.

"I'm content." Alana told him, "I don't think 'happy' can be used. You wouldn't be happy if you had my nightmares either."


	8. Chapter 7

_"In war, there are no unwounded soldiers." ~José Narosky_

* * *

"I remember him."

Alana sat cross-legged on Bucky's bed facing him, her hands clasped together in front of her. Her eyes stayed trained on Bucky's face, reading every expression, every glance, every muscle twitch to make sure he was keeping it together. She wasn't sure what to expect.

They had never directly discussed Steve Rodgers before.

"Scrawny kid. Kept picking fights that he could never win all around Brooklyn." He didn't look up at her as he spoke, but starred down at his hands. One flesh, one metal, clenching and unclenching them repeatedly. "Saved his ass a lot." He told her, no emotion in his voice, "I remember that."

"He doesn't like bullies." He nodded as she spoke. "Sometimes he goes a bit too far with the whole justice thing," His eyes looked up at her now, watching as she shrugged her shoulders. "Just needs to learn not to stand up to a bully if they have a gun, and he doesn't have his shield." Alana lifted up the hem of her navy t-shirt, exposing the tanned skin of her stomach.

Bucky studied her, his eyes zoning in on the circular scar a few inches above her belly button.

A bullet hole.

"You took a bullet for him?" Bucky asked slowly in disbelief, his mind working to process the information.

Bucky didn't think of Steve as a bad person, he knew he wasn't. His mind was just…confused. Remembering fragments of memory from childhood and from the Howling Commandos confused him. They conflicted with the memories Bucky had of being sent to take Steve down when HYDRA used him as a weapon.

_"You're my friend"_

_"You're my mission." _

Flashes of a screen in front of him, depicting who Captain America was and why he needed to be eliminated played through Bucky's mind. Pierce telling him it was his duty to make the world a better place. A headache started to grow as he thought it all over, and his lips pursed together tightly.

A hand on the side of his face brought Bucky out of his head, he jolted slightly, a hand clenching into a fist for only a moment. His eyes cleared, and he saw Alana there, her eyebrows drawn together slightly. When Bucky shook his head to clear it, her hand dropped.

"I've taken three." She picked up their conversation again, leaning back to where she was before. "Don't regret a single one." There was a pause, "Anything else?"

"After the train." Bucky started, his eyes glancing to his cybernetic arm, "He was there. How come he didn't look for me?"

"You fell from a high speed train into an icy ravine miles below. You should've been dead on impact, he-"

"Why not look for a body?" She was interrupted by Bucky, whose words came out harsh.

"He did what he thought you would've wanted. They found out the location of the last HYDRA base from Zola, and invaded. Steve ended up with Schmitt in the Valkyrie. They were launching HYDRA bombs on all the major cities in the United States. He killed Schmitt, and then crashed the plane into the ice in order to save thousands of lives."

"He should be dead."

"Serum kept him alive, frozen perfectly in ice for sixty-five years. S.H.I.E.L.D found him three years ago, thawed 'em out."

Bucky nodded his head, his black hair falling over his forehead, and mulled over the information for several minutes. Alana pulled out her phone, opening up her pictures and scrolling through before finding one to serve her purpose.

"This is him today." She held out her phone to Bucky, who took it from her hand before looking at the screen.

It was just Steve in the picture, standing in front of the Smithsonian. Alana had taken it a few months after the Battle of New York, sending it to Clint and Stark with the caption 'Cap's where he belongs'.

His hair was still in it's 1940's style, slicked to the side. Steve wore his signature jeans, t-shirt, and leather jacket as well. Bucky looked up at Alana as he handed her back her phone.

"I want to talk to him."

* * *

Three days after Bucky made his request to talk to Steve, Alana passed her evaluation. With the requirement that she stay on her current medications, she was clear to work in the field again.

Her mission was given to her before she even stood up from her seat.

"Doctor Nikita Wilhem." A S.H.I.E.L.D officer, Jane Banks, told her, sliding the file across the conference table towards Alana, who opened it up to see a picture of an older, gray headed man. "We have confirmation that he still supports HYDRA and was involved in The Winter Soldier experiments."

Alana's jaw clenched, a hand fisting around the pages. "Take him out, any means necessary. He was last spotted in Khmelevo, two hours outside of Moscow." She nodded.

"Time frame?"

"You're plane leaves in two hours. Twenty-four hours to complete the mission, we don't want him spreading information or recruiting anymore than he may already have."

"Understood." Alana pushed back her chair, sliding it across the carpet, the file in her hand. Her hands clasped together in front of her after she stood, Alana waited as the officer got up as well. Her eyes darted back to look out the glass wall, the skyline of Washington DC seeming to shine against the setting sun.

"One last thing," Banks made Alana pause, "James Barnes, should we keep him under lockdown while you're away?"

Alana shook her head immediately, "No. He can control himself."

"You're positive?"

"One hundred percent." Banks nodded.

"Anything happens, it's on you. You're dismissed, Agent Mercer." With that, Alana left and started towards the locker room.

Her mind raced as she walked through the halls, only a few people glancing over at her as she passed by. She was already figuring out how to take out her target.

Her knife, or a pistol. Either would suffice, but she'd need to get close. A rifle may work better if she could find an outpost. Being in Russia, that wouldn't be too hard.

She stopped outside the locker room door, placing a hand to the scanner and waiting until she was granted access.

Alana paused as she reached her locker, using her fingerprint to unlock it, a grin slipping onto her face as she saw all of her things there.

Her uniform and her weapons were all secure inside, while her passport and other security passes would be in the backpack that hung inside as well. She grabbed the uniform first, stripping off her clothes in front of her locker before pulling on the black fabric.

Her uniform matched Natasha's, which Clint liked to make fun of the girls for whenever they were together, but Alana didn't mind. She could move around well in it, and it provided some sense of camouflage. The material served as both an insulator and a breathable fabric, so she wouldn't get too cold.

Strapping on the belt, she reached in and took out her pistol, checking to make sure it was loaded before sliding it into the holster. She did the same bullet check with the next one, placing it securing on her other hip before taking out her knife.

It was easily concealed inside her jacket, along with two more blades.

Alana put her boots on next, lacing them up quickly before sliding in another, smaller blade, on the side.

The STARK Industries designed rifle compacted easily to be strapped across her back. She grabbed the backpack next, slinging it across her back before shutting the locker door, the locks clicking into place automatically.

* * *

Bucky starred openly at Alana when she came into his room an hour later, her black uniform on and multiple guns on her person. Her hair was pulled back, and she smiled softly at him as she put down a black backpack.

The growing smile that always dawned Bucky's face when she walked in died quickly. "Ты уезжаешь." (You're leaving.) It was a statement. Alana only nodded, knowing Bucky was agitated because he spoke in Russian.

"Я прошел оценку." (I passed evaluation.) Alana chose to stay standing, leaning up against the wall. "Я оставляю для миссии в," (I leave for a mission in,) she glanced at the clock on the wall, "тридцать минут." (thirty minutes.)

"где вы собираетесь ?" (Where're you going?)

"Россия." (Russia.) His eyes narrowed at her, and Alana watched his chest rise and fall as he took a deep breath in, letting it out slowly through his nose. "Я не могу сказать вам больше, чем , что." (I can't tell you more than that.)

He nodded, as though he understood, which Alana guessed that, in some way, he did. They lapsed into a tense silence then, Bucky starring at the wall, Alana standing with her arms crossed over her chest, staring at Bucky.

The maroon t-shirt he wore was fitting, and she could see the muscle he had gained in just the few short months he had been here. His metal arm gleamed, and she couldn't help but admire it. Admire him, really.

She was proud of him. Proud of how far he'd come in recovery, proud of how strong he was, proud of how he was figuring out who he really was. She thought of telling him this, but kept her mouth shut.

"When will you be back?" She barely noticed the language change.

"I have twenty four hours to complete the mission once I'm dropped off." He nodded, looking down at his hands now, clasping them together.

"You're extraction is right when it's complete?"

"There is no extraction plan." He head snapped up at that.

"What?!" Alana shrugged, her eyebrows rising at his harsh tone.

"I never have an extraction plan." She told him calmly.

Bucky opened his mouth, closing it again when he couldn't think of how to put his thoughts into words. "I always get out fine, I'll be gone for three days, tops." She grinned, "Then you can meet Steve."

"Okay." He was still tense, and Alana let out a breath, pushed herself off the wall, and made her way over towards him. Bucky watched her get closer and closer, his lips twitching up slightly as she sat on his bed, patting the spot beside her.

"Relax," She pulled out her phone, pressing buttons until the familiar voices of John, Paul, Ringo, and George filled the room. "I'll be fine."

Bucky recognized the song as Eleanor Rigby within the first few seconds. He had listened to a lot of the band lately, mainly because it was Alana's favorite, but he found he enjoyed their music as well.

The two spent the next twenty minutes enjoying each other's company. Alana played Beatles songs from her phone while Bucky told her what else he remembered of Steve. She knew Steve would be thrilled to come see Bucky, and Steve had already accepted her offer for him to stay at her apartment.

As Alana told Bucky about a time when she skipped school to go watch the Boston Marathon when she was in seventh grade, she glanced at the clock to see she had to get going. When she told Bucky this, his face fell into a stoic, unreadable façade.

He didn't get up after her, just watching her move about the room, turning the music off on her phone, picking up her jacket and slipping it on. Her bag sat by the door, and Alana turned to Bucky, smiling softly at the dark haired man who she had grown to care for in the past few months.

"Don't forget your meds, and remember the breathing technique if you need to use it." She had taught it to him in order for him to calm himself down more in case of a flashback. Bucky nodded, his lips – for once – not quirking upwards into a smirk. "I'll see you in a few days, James."

She turned to go towards the door, and only took two steps before he grabbed her hand with his left. The feeling of the cool metal engulfing her palm made her turn around, though Bucky dropped it immediately as he stood up. "Be careful." He told her seriously, "Don't do anything stupid." She could see something in his eyes, a sort of desperation there.

He was worried for her.

Alana turned back around to face him and, taking a few steps closer, rested her hand along his jawline before leaning in to whisper in his ear in Russian, "Не можете вернуться к вам, если я мертв." (Can't come back to you if I'm dead.)

Alana pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. Her soft lips brushing the stubble that had grown in over the past few days. She dropped her hand as she pulled back, grinning up at him for a moment before turning and walking out the door.

Bucky stood, speechless, praying she'd be back soon.

* * *

**Okay, so I actually hated how that came out, but this is the fourth time I rewrote the whole thing. Next chapter will be better I promise! Guess whose in it!**


	9. Chapter 8

_ "Nothing makes us so lonely as our secrets" – Paul Tournier_

* * *

A duffle bag slung over his shoulder, Steve Rogers carefully turned the small key he held in his hand, unlocking the front door of apartment 387. The hinges only squeaked slightly as he pushed the door open, stepping through the threshold before closing the door behind himself.

A small smile played on his lips as Steve took in the familiar surroundings. It had been a while since he had been in Alana Mercer's DC apartment. His friend would usually go over to his apartment when she was in town before, but Hydra had destroyed it months ago.

He locked the front door again before making his way towards the bedrooms. Steve passed through the living room as he did so, catching sight of the plethora of framed pictures that hung from the walls. Alana always had a thing for pictures and Steve briefly recalled her telling him it was because you never knew when someone was going to get themself shot.

Steve let out a short chuckle at the memory. She had only been half-joking, a smile on her face at the time. As he looked over the photographs, Steve's brow furrowed.

Alana rarely joked nowadays. Before, when Steve had first met the assassin, she did so constantly.

The more he thought it over, the more he realized how much she had truly changed. She used to always have a smile on her face. She would make sardonic comments, rash decisions, and had an almost carefree aura about her. Steve remembered how she blatantly ignored rules, something that she almost never did now.

The Alana today thought everything through, made sure a plan was in place. She was more cautious, more concealed.

A picture of her sitting right beside him, her arm wrapped around his waist caught Steve's attention then. It had been at one of Tony's parties.

Alana used to flirt, she used to sing, she used to dance. Steve had had to adjust quickly to how open Alana used to be with her affection. From her, a kiss on the cheek didn't mean much. She was a seductress as part of her job. The proximity and intimacy of others hadn't bothered her.

She was the most confident woman Steve had ever met, rivaling even Peggy. He had once walked into her apartment in London to find her dancing around the kitchen, belting out the lyrics to a Billy Joel song that was playing on the radio. Her only reaction had been to grab his hand and make Steve dance with her, completely ignoring his awkwardness.

That wasn't Alana anymore, Steve realized, looking over another picture of Clint and Thor standing together.

Alana had built up a wall, cast people out, and didn't let many get past it. She listened to orders, she thought before she acted. Alana didn't flirt with everyone she saw, she didn't dance, and Steve couldn't remember the last time he had heard her sing.

Steve knew that Batswana had broken her. He saw the aftermath of that mission, but the changes had started before then.

She had already started building up walls before her deployment.

Lips pursed together, he turned away from the pictures and made his way to the guest bedroom. He passed by the bathroom on the way, a memory flashing before his eyes.

Alana had still been sick then, and Steve had come to see her. He had been talking to her over the phone while he was in New York, but made the trip down just to see what she wasn't telling him. It was a hunch, one that he still wasn't sure he's glad he acted on or not.

Opening the door to see Alana Mercer curled up on her couch, almost fifty pounds underweight and shaking like a leaf was an image he couldn't get out of his head. That week they had spent most of their time in the small bathroom Steve was now starring into, huddled together on the floor.

She was constantly sick. Anything he managed to get into her came right back out within a couple of minutes. She had panic attacks multiple times, getting disoriented and not knowing which way was up and which was down.

That had been the first time she had told Steve she wanted to die.

He could almost see her there now. Her cheeks sunken in, one of his sweatshirts engulfing her as she hugged her knees to her chest.

Steve shook his head, clearing away the memories and images before turning away.

That was almost a year ago now, besides, she was better. She had been cleared, Steve reminded himself, she was even on a mission.

* * *

Alana couldn't remember the last time it had been sunny when she was in Russia. She thought of this as she glanced up at the cloud-covered sky above her. Gravel dug through her uniform pants and into her legs, but she barely felt it.

She had been in the same position for the last six hours, staking out the home of Hydra doctor Nikita Wilhem. The house had been easy enough to find, and the guards that stood around the property only confirmed the fact that he was there.

The sentries outside of the house rotated positions every two hours. Two directly by the front door, one patrolled the back yard a hundred yards out from the house, while two others circled the property at about a hundred and twenty five yard radius from the middle of the home.

She did have to give them credit; they tried to hide the fact that they were guards. Dressed in civilian clothes and acting as though they were doing ordinary things, Alana had almost over-looked a few of them.

Almost.

The two by the front door acted as though they were gardeners, or they were 'repairing' the fence. The two who had the furthest area just appeared to be walking around the small neighborhood. While the final guard in the back yard sat as though he was simply enjoying the cloudy weather.

Of course, with the scope on her rifle, Alana was able to spot the firearms each carried. One of the gardeners even had a knife in his boot.

A plan had already formulated itself in her mind, and now she was just waiting for the sun to start setting before she moved in. Taking out the outside guards wouldn't be difficult. There was a moment when they were each directly across from one another, the house and hilly terrain blocking their view of one another.

Take them out silently one at a time, it would be simple, and if done correctly, their deaths wouldn't alert anyone of her presence.

After those two were taken out, Alana would have to wait almost ten minutes until the guard from the back yard would go to switch positions with one of the guards who had been patrolling the perimeter.

He would be a simple take out as well. If he noticed his colleague didn't walk by sooner and headed out, then she would just be ahead of schedule.

She positioned herself again to look through the scope, lowering herself down and shutting one eye. Silently, she watched the guards, played through her plan in her mind again, and at one point, noticed the positioning of the sun through the clouds.

Alana thought of the medication that was in a pocket of her jacket. The Betahistine pills that she was required to take. She paused though, having no food to take it with, she knew a headache was inevitable.

Alana couldn't afford to have a headache when she put her plan into action.

She chose to ignore the medication then, leaving it in her pocket and refocusing on what she could see through her scope.

* * *

Bucky didn't like the waiting.

It made him feel useless, just sitting there while Alana was over in Russia doing god-knows-what. Of course, she knew what she was doing, but Bucky didn't. He wasn't allowed to know.

He also didn't understand why he was so worried. She was a trained assassin; she could handle it. Bucky had seen her fight, watched her train. Even though he had never seen her kill, he had an idea of how good she was.

He kept his head down as he ate his lunch in the facility cafeteria that afternoon. Twelve o'clock in DC, seven at night in Moscow. If he figured it out correctly then Alana had been there for the past twelve hours.

His metal fingers drummed on top of the table as he shoveled food into his mouth. No one sat across from him, though a few employees did sit together at the other end, occasionally sending a glance over at him.

His thoughts were so preoccupied with wondering how Alana was, that he didn't even taste the food. Not that he was missing much, it wasn't the best quality around, especially when he compared it to some of the food Alana had brought him over the past three months.

"She'll be fine y'know." Bucky's head snapped up at the voice, his eyes narrowing slightly at the man who now stood across from him, a tray in his hands, "You mind?" He asked, nodding towards the seat.

Bucky simply extended his metal hand, the drumming temporarily ceasing as he did so. The man sat, giving Bucky a quick nod. His brown hair was styled up front and he had a beard covering his chin and jawline. "I'm Ian."

"Bucky." His voice came out short and clipped, just how it sounded when he first came to the S.H.I.E.L.D facility.

"You're not one for words are you?" The other man joked, his lips setting into a line when Bucky only glared slightly. Ian decided to change tactics. "I meant it, when I said she'd be fine."

"How'd you know she was gone?" The question surprised Ian, who hadn't expected a reply at all. He shrugged, then held up two fingers.

"Two things," He said through a mouthful of peas, "One, you're sitting here hunched over drumming yah fingers endlessly on the table," He got another glare for that one, "and two," He swallowed his food, "I was on her team few years back for a mission in the Congo. Three months in that godforsaken jungle, seven of us went in, if it was anyone else but her with us there none of us woulda made it out alive."

"So they told you she had a mission?" Bucky guessed, interested now in what Ian had to say.

"Course not," Ian simply smirked, shrugging his shoulders before adding nonchalantly, "S.H.I.E.L.D offered her a backup last minute, I was told to suit up but she turned it down." Bucky nodded his head, mulling over the new information. The two men ate in silence for a few minutes before Ian suddenly spoke up again. "You know what she did in the Congo while we were there?" It was obviously a rhetorical question, so Bucky kept his mouth shut, "She befriended a fucking gorilla."

Bucky smirked at that, hardly believing the man across from him. Alana would never do that.

"Was before Batswana, of course. Before New York too." Ian's comment had Bucky looking up at him and putting his fork down.

"What happened in Batswana?" Ian's jaw went slack; he thought Bucky would know about that.

"Not my place to tell yah, thought you knew." Ian's eyebrows jumped up for a moment as he ran a hand over his beard, "She's gunna kill me for mentioning it."

"She never told me."

"If it helps, she doesn't tell many people. Only ones she cares about."

That comment didn't help Bucky in the slightest. Mainly because Ian was implying that Alana didn't care about Bucky, which he was pretty damn sure she did care about him. The other part that had his stomach dropping was that it meant Alana cared about Ian.

Had they been a thing? He wondered, not knowing that the answer was yes, they had been for a while.

Alana Mercer hadn't just been free in giving out kisses on the cheek before she got sick. She was free with a lot more than that. Finding a partner for the night was never something that was hard for her to do, and to Alana, sex had just been sex. A way to get her mind off other things she was dealing with.

Clint knew about it, he had woken up enough times to find a strange man in the kitchen.

It didn't mean she cared about them though. Alana didn't, and after they were finished she would usually distance herself from them.

Ian had been different, since they had worked together. The two were just friends, who, on occasion, had slept together. He knew what he meant to her and what she was like.

Steve even knew, however uncomfortable it had made him while she was still like that. Hell, Alana had even admitted that she would sleep with Steve one time when she was drunk a few years back.

It had taken Steve a while to get over that comment.

Bucky, of course, knew none of it. He knew the woman who would sit with him day after day and help him recover. He knew her patience, her strength, and her kindness.

She didn't talk to just anyone, she didn't sing or dance, and she definitely didn't just jump into hostile situations without having some iota of a plan.

She had lost those parts of herself; she had let them go a long time ago.

* * *

The knife cut through the man's throat with ease, his warm blood dripping over Alana's hand before she dropped him. His body fell to the ground with a dull thud. She didn't even look at him again before she kept going, getting closer to the house while slipping the knife back into it's place in her jacket.

Five guards down, one to go.

She had to move quickly. The remaining target would soon realize what was happening.

Alana moved until she was right up against the house, crouched beneath a windowsill and making her way towards the back on silent feet.

Her hand moved towards the pistol at her hip. Her fingers wrapped around the firearm, drawing it out and flipping off the safety.

Her senses were on high alert, listening to every individual sound around her.

Movement from inside the house made her stop, her head tilting to the side in order to hear more clearly.

It came from close by, and making a split-second change of plans, Alana made her way back to the window. The pistol went back into place, and a knife came out instead.

She rose from her crouch, examined the lock on the window for only a second, and then slipped the thin blade through, clicking the window from locked to unlocked. Alana pushed the window up slowly then, halting her actions immediately when it creaked. After a moment, she kept pushing it upwards, thankful it stayed silent, and then eased herself through the small opening.

As soon as her foot touched the carpeted floor, her plan went to hell.

A loud siren blasted through the house, deafening to the point where she wanted to cover her ears. Years of training made her move though, the silent approach now out of the game as she drew her gun and ran out of the room towards the home's interior.

The back door slammed open, and Alana heard the guard yelling out in Russian. He turned the corner and dropped dead a second later, Alana's bullet between his eyes.

The siren continued to blast continuously as she made her way through the house.

She had to step over the dead guard to get to the other end of the house, and there, she found the doctor sitting calmly in an old rocking chair. Her eyebrows came together, gun aimed at his head, as the old man smiled. The sirens suddenly stopped.

"Они тебя послал?" (They sent you?) He seemed surprised, "Послушайте вы, не будут стрелять старика , вы бы Алану ?" (Come now, you wouldn't shoot an old man, would you Alana?)

He laughed when her eyes widened, "Как вы знаете мое имя?" (How do you know my name?)

"Я никогда не забываю имена моего пациента." (I never forget my patient's names.) He laughed, his hands folding together. Her eyes darted down, lips pursing together when she saw the remote he held. "Вы должны уважать тех, кто-" (You should respect those you-). He was cut off when she pulled the trigger.

"I really don't care." Alana told the dead man. It had been a distraction; she figured it out instantly when she saw the remote. He stopped the sirens, so backup would know she was there.

She showed herself out through a nearby window, sprinting across the yard towards the cover of the trees. Get there, then to the hills.

That was her way out.

The sound of motors had her glancing back, swearing under her breath when she saw the Humvees speeding towards her.

One right behind the other.

She stopped in her tracks, turning around to face the vehicles. Her left hand found the grenade in her jacket pocket, and she waited a second before pulling the pin and forcefully lobbing it away from herself.

Alana didn't wait, turning around right away and continuing to run. Gunshots came right after, bullets hailing down around her.

One hit her leg, pitching her forwards. Her world shifted dramatically, causing Alana to lose her balance as panic swelled in her chest.

Her grenade went off as she hit the ground face first; the blast lifted her off the ground again, her body flying through the air yet again, her world spinning uncontrollably, even as she shut her eyes.

Alana's body skidded through loose stone and gravel when she landed again, ripping through thinner material and skin. Blood and dirt covered her marred face, her arm twisted to an acute angle behind her back.

If she were normal, it would be snapped in half.

That didn't mean it didn't hurt like hell, though.

Alana stayed motionless on the ground as her world kept spinning, objects blurred together, the trees that were only a few feet away were only quick flashes to her.

_Not again_, she thought as she desperately tried to slow her world down. She needed it to stop.

_Dear God, not again._


	10. Chapter 9

** "The tragedy of life is not death, but what dies inside us while we live."**

* * *

They were the four words Steve Rogers never wanted to hear. He had heard them once before, and here he was hearing them again.

_"The Phoenix is down."_

His heart felt as though it stopped and lurched up into his throat all in the same second. It didn't matter that he was in the middle of Washington DC, surrounded by civilians who shoved past him, not appreciating that he had suddenly stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. Steve took off jogging towards the S.H.I.E.L.D facility.

Though a jog to Steve Rogers' was any other man's sprint. He bumped into more than a few people, though he tried to apologize as he went.

_"The Phoenix is down." _The words rang over and over again in his mind, taunting him with images as to what could have happened.

Alana was due to come back in only a few short hours. He guessed that someone thought she was taking too long.

That's exactly what had happened. S.H.I.E.L.D employees knew how quickly Alana got her work done; she should have been back stateside hours ago. Reestablished contact at least. When a woman who had been working for the organization for the past five years pointed it out, they had sent out a drone to stake out the target's house.

The drone had found her lying motionless in some underbrush two miles away from the house in a pool of blood and vomit.

They wouldn't tell Steve anymore over the phone, and he picked up his pace a little as he got closer to the facility. They'd be in contact with whomever Alana was with, they could tell him more.

She had to be alright, Steve told himself, she just had to be.

He couldn't lose another friend.

* * *

"These are the x-rays we were sent from the aircraft." The doctor pointed to a clear fracture in Alana's left elbow, "Damage was sustained here," His hand moved to point to another x-ray of her torso, "here," his hand moved again, "and here."

"How recent are these?" Steve ran a hand over his face, his pulse still faster than it should be.

"They were an hour ago. The plane is still in route to arrive here before midnight." Steve nodded his head, "As you know, Agent Mercer's…genetic anomaly…makes it so treatment will prove difficult."

"How difficult?"

"Depending on the position it was in, and taking into account how long she was there, we may need to break her arm completely in order to reset it correctly. Her ribs should be fine, going on past injuries to the affected area." The doctor gathered up the x-rays as he explained, Steve looking down at the tiled floor. "Mr. Rogers," He looked up, "We will need your assistance if the arm hasn't properly fused." His jaw tightened.

Steve didn't like breaking bones. He had done it before with Alana, to her leg three years ago.

"She's still out?"

"She is the Phoenix." A small grin tugged at the Captain's lips.

"Thank you, Doctor." The man nodded, pushing his glasses up on his nose a bit higher before speaking again.

"Steven," The man in question raised his eyebrows, "She'll need a friend when she wakes up."

"I know, Doctor."

* * *

Alana Mercer's arrival back at the new S.H.I.E.L.D headquarters in Washington DC was chaotic. A whole medical team had been sent out to retrieve her from Russia, and once the plane had landed, they were all rushing her inside.

Things had gone smoothly for most of the flight, but twenty minutes prior to landing her blood pressure suddenly began to drop. Alarms on the medical machines had gone off, sending the team into a frenzy which now had them rushing Alana to surgery.

Steve was right there, walking quickly alongside the bed Alana lay motionless in as the lead doctor yelled out orders.

"Blood pressure's 80/55 and dropping rapidly!"

"Pulse?" The doctor barked out, a nurse by Alana's head pressing two fingers to the side of the assassin's neck.

"For her, weak." The nurse jumped as Steve placed a hand on her shoulder.

"What's wrong!" He demanded, "What's happening to her?!"

"Captain, please!" Another doctor pulled Steve gently away, "I'll explain soon enough, we need to get her into surgery." Steve starred helplessly after her, his jaw slack as his shoulders sagged down.

"70/48!" Orders were shouted, and Steve stood motionless in the hallway, watching Alana be taken further and further away.

"Someone prep a defibrillator!"

Their voices slowly got quieter, the door to the main medical unit swinging shut and cutting them out completely. He took a few moments then to calm himself down.

She would make it, Steve knew she would, she always did. Alana had been through worse, so much worse than what she was in right now.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, and Steve took it out carefully, glancing down at the screen to see three missed calls from Tony.

Seven from Clint, and two from an unknown number that Steve could only guess was Natasha.

The most recent text, the one that made his phone buzz, was from Tony.

'_If you don't answer me soon old man I'm flying there myself.' _

Steve sighed, typing out the response quickly, knowing full well Tony would show up if he didn't respond soon.

_'Surgery. Don't know much else, I'll let you know.' _

As soon as he pressed send, Steve typed out the same message to Clint. He knew the archer would be on his way here regardless. Hell, Steve wouldn't be surprised if Natasha came out of her hiding to show up and see how Alana was doing.

Steve had always admired how Strike Team: Delta cared for one another. It reminded him of the Commandos.

He slid his phone back in his pocket and made his way into the medical waiting room. Steve didn't bother going up to the desk to ask for an update, the nurses saw him walk in, they'd tell him when they had news.

They didn't need Captain America causing a scene.

Fifteen minutes later and it didn't matter anymore, as the double doors were flung open.

"Where is she!?" Steve lifted his head at the familiar voice.

Bucky Barnes didn't look very different from the day he fell from the train. He had cut his hair and shaved since Steve last saw him, looking just like he had back during World War II.

The only glaring differences were that sweatpants weren't invented yet, Bucky hadn't been able to afford a cotton t-shirt, and he hadn't had the cybernetic arm.

"Sir, you need to calm down."

"Where the hell is she!?" Bucky was yelling, his voice rough and demanding. He slammed his left hand down on the counter, the top of it crumbling beneath his metal fingers.

"Bucky?" He spun around instantly, his eyes locking on Steve, who slowly rose up from his chair. Steve could see the worry and panic on his old friend's face. Bucky's chest rose with each breath he took, and his expression softened into one of slight confusion when he saw Steve. He didn't saw anything, but Steve could see instantly that Bucky wasn't the same. He was better than before, but he wasn't his best friend.

He knew he wouldn't be the same Bucky, had told himself that over and over again, but still, Steve couldn't control the wave of sadness that rolled over him when Bucky didn't walk over and clap him on the shoulder like he'd done dozens of times before.

"Steve." Bucky's voice was quite, his arms hanging limply by his sides. "What happened?"

Steve knew that Bucky wasn't asking about their friendship, or about himself. He was asking about Alana. "There was an accident, Bucky, it's gunna be a while."

* * *

"The fourth rib here," The doctor pointed again to the x-ray that Steve had already seen. Bucky, however, hadn't and was leaning over to get a closer look. "didn't shift back into place properly before it started the healing process, there was an artery in the way, and when the bone started to fuse together-"

"It cut off the blood flow." Steve finished as the doctor nodded.

"Preciously. It was cut off twenty minutes prior to landing, just when her blood pressure started dropping." The old doctor glanced up at Bucky and Steve to make sure they were following. Steve clearly understood, but Bucky's eyebrows were together, his mouth twisted off to the side. "Sergeant Barnes? Do you have any questions?"

Bucky didn't respond, just starred straight ahead, lost in his thoughts. "Sergeant Barnes?" The doctor tried again, this time gaining the soldier's attention.

"Where is she?"

He needed to see her with his own eyes. He didn't care about the details or exactly how they performed the surgery; he just wanted to see her.

"In one of the recovery rooms, she's still unconscious-"

"What room?" Bucky cut him off, his eyes glancing down to the door.

"Bucky." Steve held out a hand to place on his old friend's shoulder, but Bucky backed out of his reach, his eyes narrowing at Steve.

"A room number," His blue eyes turned back to the doctor, and he let out a breath before adding, "please."

"Sixty-three." The dark haired man left the room a few moments later, leaving Steve alone with the doctor. After a few tense beats of silence, the doctor spoke up. "Does he know?"

"No," Steve continued to stare at the door Bucky had gone through, "I don't think she told him any of it."

"You should, then." The doctor was met with wide eyes and blonde eyebrows raised up at him. The shorter man shrugged at the super-soldier. "He'll noticed how quickly she's healing, and, if I may speak from observation, Alana and Bucky have grown very close to one another."

Steve nodded, remembering how Bucky always was great with girls. He'd take them out dancing, to dinner, to the pictures. He always knew what to say, how to act. Bucky Barnes had a certain air about him that just drew girls to him. He didn't smile, he smirked. And he didn't walk, he sauntered.

Steve wondered if Alana was bringing that part of him back. If Bucky did truly care about her, then yes – Steve knew – he had to tell him.

Alana was going to be so pissed when she woke up.

* * *

_Alana glanced at each familiar building she passed by, her eyes flitting over the weathered brick and the ivy that grew up the sides; taller and taller with each passing year._

_The narrow roadway underneath her feet was one she had walked countless times before. The worn cobblestones had seen her grow up, had even known her when she still went by Brewster. _

_Now though, Alana wasn't sure why her mind had put her back home in Boston. All she knew was that she was looking for something, something that she didn't know yet, but she'd find it. She had figured out the trick to the game her own mind played years ago._

_She had to not look for it. _

_Whatever it was, or whoever, would show up eventually. Sometimes it would be a note, or an old toy. Once it was her pistol. Other times it was her brother, or Clint. _

_Near the end of Batswana, she found her father. _

_Alana just had to walk until she found whatever her mind needed her to find._

_She knew she was unconscious, but ever since the accident right after her promotion to full S.H.I.E.L.D agent, this was what happened to her. _

_So Alana ran a hand along the side of a brick building as she passed by, the masonry rough underneath her calloused fingertips. As she passed by the window, Alana let her fingers run across the smooth surface, pausing as she caught glimpse of her reflection. _

_Her hair was down, falling in loose waves over her shoulders, but it wasn't the hair that caught her attention. It was her eyes, the look in them really. _

_Alana was reminded of why she didn't look at herself in the mirror that often anymore. _

_She didn't like seeing the emptiness there. Sure, during the day she was fine. She was happy, excited, motivated to get things done regarding her work, or to spend time with Bucky and help him in his recovery. But once she got home?_

_At night, when Alana was by herself, that was when she couldn't feel a thing. Once she was alone she didn't even put on the Beatles like she had done before. Yes, sometimes she would watch television or call up a friend, but she never got too into it. _

_No matter what she did, Alana felt empty. And that made her feel pathetic. _

_Her gut wrenched, and she quickly turned away from the building window, withdrawing her hand from the glass as well and taking hurried steps down the street, her hands shoved into her pockets. _

_When she looked up after walking a few blocks, her gaze landed on an old bar. _

_From the outside Finnegan's looked run-down and hollow. But Alana knew better. She had been going there since she was five years old. Sure, it wasn't the Ritz, but for her, it was a piece of home. _

_The darkened wood paneling, the leather barstools, and the smell of alcohol and cigarette smoke that heralded over everything else most of the time, would always hold a place in her heart. _

_The metal pitchers that they used were dented after being used in fights that broke out; Alana had even been the one to make the suggestion after they lost so many glass pitchers. The dark green curtains that hung over the front windows hadn't been changed or washed in over twenty years, and the front door stuck if you pushed it open too far. If that happened, then half the patrons would yell at you as a draft blew in. _

_How many people does it take to unstick the front door to Finnegan's? Alana knew the answer was three. _

_She pushed the door now, the familiar musky smell rushing at her all at once. It made a smile slip onto her face automatically as she stepped through the threshold, the sound of the old 60's music the owner always had playing was on nonstop. Now was no different. _

_What was different, was the person sitting at the bar. _

_She'd found what she had been looking for, and he was the only person in Alana's mind with her. _

_"Hey, doll," That smirk played on his lips as Bucky patted the barstool beside him, "You just gunna stand there all day?" _

_She shook her head, a laugh escaping her lips, and made her way over to him. "Why're you here?" Her question had him lifting his hand and placing it over the lapel of the jacket he was wearing._

_"You know how many women have said that to me?" He asked her, reaching out for her hand as she came closer. She took it, and Bucky threaded their fingers together as he answered his own question, "None." _

_"Well, now can check that off your bucket list." _

_"Lucky me." He squeezed her hand, smiling down at her. He looked _happy_, truly happy to be there, and it made Alana grin and wonder why that was, when she asked him, Bucky just shrugged, "I'm with you." He said it as though the answer was obvious. _

_"Yeah, well people around me generally aren't too happy." His eyebrows came together, and Alana lifted her free hand to push away the 'v' that had settled between his eyes. "I'm not a very pleasant person." _

_"No," He agreed with her, making her mouth skew off to the side, "But you're strong, you're determined, and from what I've seen, you're caring." _

_"I never told you what I've done though." Bucky waved her off with his metal hand._

_"Who here hasn't killed a few people?" _

_"You are asking that where we're the only ones here." She deadpanned, and Bucky let out a breath. _

_"Just go with the joke, beautiful." She blushed and Bucky smirked, his eyes dancing. _

_"I've done more, been through more. I never told you," She paused, the smile falling from her face as her thoughts wandered. _

_She never told Bucky. Not about her work, about her family, about Budapest or Batswana or about her Fall. Her Fall was kind of a big one, one that she should have mentioned. If she was in a hospital, back at S.H.I.E.L.D then he would find out. _

_Bucky would know she was different, not just because she was an agent. Physically, genetically, she was different. Whatever that compound had been engineering, their formula had been successful. _

_Alana was their only success, and that was only because of the self-destruct mechanism the group had installed. The plant was destroyed, the mission had been completed, and Alana's life had drastically changed forever. _

_"Where are you?" A cool hand on the side of her face brought Alana's attention back to where her mind was now. Bucky sat in front of her, his eyes searching hers, which, - just a moment ago – looked completely lost. They focused now, on his face, and that smirk played on his lips again._

_"With you." Her voice was soft, and Bucky pressed a kiss to her cheek, his lips warm and soft against her skin. _

_"Don't ever go anywhere else."_


	11. Chapter 10

**Hello wonderful people! Thank you so much for all the favorites, follows, and reviews! I really appreciate every single review! I hope you all like this chapter. Also, I made myself a tumblr account under yahtzeebitch if you want to follow that. I might be posting some short one shots I write every once and a while, and if not that then Bucky stuff and that's always a fun time!**

**As another note, it'd be really cool if you told me what you think of this chapter, or every chapter really, reviews are great and I'll update faster/sooner if time allows if I hear from a lot of you!**

**Disclaimer: I can fit all my belongings in one duffle bag, so no, I don't own anything Marvel related :/**

* * *

_"It is an absolute human certainty that no one can know his own beauty or perceive a sense of his own worth until it has been reflected back to him in the mirror of another loving, caring human being." ― __John Joseph Powell_

* * *

She looked dead.

That's what Bucky thought as he starred down at Alana lying motionless in the hospital bed, her hair contrasting against the white sheets and her paled face. Her eyes were closed, arms resting limply by her sides, her chest barely rising and falling as oxygen was pumped into her lungs through a mask.

One machine let off a consistent, steady beep in time with Alana's heartbeat. It was the only sound in the room, and if it were going off for any other reason, Bucky would have found it infuriatingly annoying. After he figured out what it represented, his mind clung to it like a lifeline. His hearing was fixated on the little beep, keeping time with it and making sure it never faltered in its rhythm.

Sitting beside her, Bucky's mind had traveled back to revisit the realization he had come to earlier that evening.

He cared about her.

A lot.

Alana Mercer was his friend, and for whatever reason, she wasn't scared of Bucky like most were. Sure, the agents that he passed by in the hallways didn't act scared of him, but they were cautious. He could see it in how they shifted away from him, how they always tried their best not to upset him. Bucky saw it in other employees too, though it was more pronounced. They walked on the other side of the hallway and sat at tables by themselves in the cafeteria when there were seats open around him.

Fingers twitched or tightened when others spoke to him. They're eyes darted to take note of the exits in the room. Some moved their hands a bit closer to the weapons they had on their person, or tensed in their fighting stance just a little.

It's not that Bucky looked for the reactions; he was trained to notice them. The Winter Soldier was hardwired to notice them. Noticing and exploiting peoples' fears was a very easy way of setting them up to be killed.

Bucky didn't see any of those signs with Alana. He never had. She went out of her way to see him, to talk to him, even when he was being a jerk. Hell, she usually grinned when he was being a jerk to her.

His eyes raked over her pale face, looking for any signs of discomfort. Her skin was ghostly and she'd had to get stitches for a cut she had gotten on her forehead. There were bruises on her jaw and around her left eye. His fingers itched to touch her, but he held back.

Bucky didn't want to hurt her further. He knew she wasn't delicate or fragile, but he didn't trust himself.

Comforting her after she found out about her file being released had been hard enough for him. He hadn't been able to quite remember how to comfort someone in the first place, taking into account his flashbacks and inhuman strength, Bucky didn't want to get too close.

The sound of the door opening had him looking away from her, his eyes landing on Steve as he let himself inside, closing the door softly behind himself. "Bucky." The blonde nodded to his old friend, and then looked to Alana.

Bucky watched as Steve made his way closer to her until he was on the opposite side of her bed. Steve's hand took one of Alana's and he threaded his fingers between hers before giving it a squeeze. "Hey, Lana." At the sound of Steve's voice, Alana's heartbeat monitor beat a little faster.

Bucky sat up straighter in his seat instantly, sending a worried glance to the machine. "She's fine," Steve's words had Bucky giving him a confused look, "happens every time she ends up like this. Barton likes to see how fast he can get her heart rate up to the point where the nurses come in."

"That's dangerous." Steve gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head.

"Her heart rate is higher than the normal person's, so it's safe." Bucky didn't look like he completely believed Steve, but he nodded nonetheless.

"She's different," Bucky's words had Steve letting go of Alana's hand and pulling himself up a seat. "Heals faster and has a faster heart rate."

"She's stronger, too. And faster, she's more agile than before too." Steve shrugged, "That's what Barton says at least."

"Before what?" Bucky starred over Alana's unconscious body at Steve, who ran a hand through his blonde hair before speaking up, his words lacking their usual conviction.

"She would have told you soon, Bucky, I want to start with that. It's really not in my place to tell you this, but it'll make things clearer for you." Bucky opened his mouth, but Steve held up a hand, "Please," Bucky closed his mouth, leaning forwards in his seat slightly, eyes narrowed, "Alana joined S.H.I.E.L.D seven, almost eight, years ago. I won't tell you why, she'll tell you when she's ready, but anyways, Barton was her S.O, her supervising officer." Bucky nodded his head, he knew all that already, "Right after Alana was granted full agent status, she and Clint went on a mission to take out a research plant in Dubai. They were trying to recreate the serum they injected me with, use it for warfare. It was a threat to S.H.I.E.L.D, so Barton and Alana were sent in to take it out. Far as I know, their mission went smoothly until the end."

Bucky was starring down at Alana again, his lips pressed together as he kept his eyes on her face, as if she would wake up at any moment. Steve could tell Bucky was still listening, so he continued.

"The plant was set to self-destruct, and as they were leaving, Alana saw a truck getting away. She turned back and took it out, meeting back up with Barton outside. They were fifteen stories up in the air, getting out through the scaffolding that had been there. They had to walk over the tanks that held what the plant was making. The bridge collapsed after Barton crossed. Below them, the plant was exploding into flames and the fire was spreading. Alana had to jump across in order to get out alive, but she didn't make it. The fire had gotten too close, either they got burned or their palms got too sweaty, but Barton was only able to hold onto her for a second before her hand slipped out." Steve paused, letting out a breath, "She fell."

The brunette was thinking back to his own fall decades ago, the metal bar snapping, the feeling of plummeting hundreds of feet down into that icy ravine. "Barton had to leave her, went back two days later and they found her in the ashes. Whatever that plant was producing," Steve shook his head slightly, "it saved her life."

"Phoenix." Realization dawned on Bucky as he remembered reading Alana's codename on the front of her file. "That's why she's the phoenix."

Steve nodded his head, "The bruises will be gone before she wakes up." A shrug of his shoulders, "I can't tell you when that'll be."

"Thanks." It was mumbled and clipped, but Steve caught the word as it passed through Bucky's lips. He watched as Steve ran a hand over her forehead, pushing back some of her hair so it was no longer covering part of her face. "So, are you two like a…" He trailed off, and Steve looked up at him, confusion clear on his features.

"What?" And then it hit him, "Oh! No, not at all. She's practically family." Bucky nodded, ignoring the slight wave of relief that passed through him, "She uh, she helped me when I woke up. Just like she is for you."

"When was that?" Bucky still didn't look at Steve when he spoke to him.

"Three years ago."

The two settled into a silence then, tension filling the air around them. Steve wanted to ask Bucky so many things, but knew that his old friend wasn't ready for those. Now was not the time, or the place.

Minutes ticked by, Alana's heart monitor beeping away until Steve thought of something that might put Bucky at ease. "The mission she was on," He started, "it was a success."

"Great." Bucky didn't give a damn.

"I don't think you understand how good she is at her job, Bucky." That got Bucky to lift up his eyes to meet Steve's. "She took out six highly-trained Russian soldiers single handedly in less than an hour, and her target. There were no civilian causalities."

* * *

Bucky didn't move from her side. Long after Steve left to get some rest, Bucky stayed vigilant by her bedside. Occasionally nurses would come in to take her blood pressure and check other vital signs, but none of them spoke to him.

He was still starring; his hands clasped between his knees, when the door was pushed open again, this time without a preceding knock.

"How's sleeping beauty?" Bucky vaguely recognized the shorter man who walked inside, and it only took him a moment to remember his name.

Clint Barton.

Bucky didn't understand what he was saying, but Clint didn't seem to notice as he went straight to Alana's side. Bucky watched again as another man took her hand and gave it a squeeze. Clint went a step further, leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead.

The heart monitor sped up and Clint grinned. "How's she been?" He addressed Bucky directly, who shifted slightly in his chair.

"Like this." Clint nodded. "Steve told me what happened." Bucky's voice didn't change at all, and Clint's lips thinned as he pressed them together. "In Dubai."

"Worst day of my life." The response was immediate, "I watched her fall, saw the flames engulf her whole body." He shifted, a hand running over the back of his neck as the muscles in his jaw tightened momentarily. Clint's gaze fell to Alana's face, and Bucky almost missed his next words. "I thought I lost her." A few beats of silence, and then louder, "It's in the past though, she'll be fine." Bucky watched as Alana's SO leaned down until his mouth was right beside her ear, he whispered something that Bucky couldn't hear, and the heart monitor jumped up slightly.

As Clint stood back up, there was a grin on his face.

"Can I ask you something?" Bucky spoke up and Clint shrugged his shoulders. "What's a matter with her mother?" He nodded down at Alana for clarification, and watched, as Clint's features seemed to darken.

"You lost both your folks, right? When you were a kid?"

"They were both gone before I turned five." Clint gave him a dark smile.

"Alana would've been a lot better off if both her parents were dead." Bucky didn't know what to say to that, so he just nodded his head again. "Alana's mother," Clint took a breath to calm himself down, "Alana's mother was one of the main reasons why I recruited her. She needed to get out of that situation, and I knew she was strong just by seeing how she was able to grow up like she did."

Clint looked around the room after that, and Bucky watched as the shorter man walked over to one of the other walls and took down the crucifix that had been there. "For future reference," Clint looked at Bucky, waving the wooden figure around in his hand, "always take these out of the room before she wakes up."

"This happens a lot to her?" Bucky's eyebrows rose.

Clint shrugged his shoulders, "In our line of work it does," He held out a hand to motion to Alana, "With her, she stays out longer than most people." Clint put the crucifix in the back pocket of his jeans and walked closer to the hospital bed. "Before I forget, when she starts having nightmares again," Clint's eyes narrowed at Bucky, "and she will," Bucky nodded his head, "put on the Beatles. Gives her something to grasp on to."

* * *

Hours turned into days, and still Alana showed no signs of waking up. Bucky sat by her side, only leaving the chair when nurses asked him to or when he left to use the bathroom. Steve brought Bucky his meals to Alana's room, a gesture that had surprised the ex-assassin so much so that he hadn't known how to respond. Steve settled for the muttered 'thank you' each time he handed Bucky a tray of food. He would stay in the room for a while afterwards; watching Alana while Bucky ate across from him. Sometimes they spoke to one another, but it was always about superficial matters; most regarding their unconscious mutual friend.

Clint spent a lot of time in the room too, mostly whispering things in Alana's ear to make the heart rate monitor jump. He never seemed to grow tired of the game and Bucky had realized Clint Barton was just an overgrown child who knew how to shoot a bow and arrows. Alana had told him stories; he just hadn't believed all of them until he watched Barton for himself.

Though now only Bucky occupied the plastic chair beside Alana's bed. The brunette was asleep, his arms crossed over his chest, head lolled off to the side. It wasn't comfortable, but his time with Hydra had made Bucky used to sleeping on hard surfaces.

His breathing remained steady as the heart rate monitor suddenly skipped a beat before resuming again at a faster pace. Unlike when Clint made it race, the upbeat tempo continued. Sweat covered Alana's body, her face twitching as the images flashed before her eyes.

She wasn't inside her head completely anymore. Alana was no longer sitting with Bucky at Finnegan's. As she got closer to when she would wake up, the nightmares returned.

Alana's breathing became louder, waking Bucky up suddenly. He noticed the differences right away. The bruises that covered her face days prior were now gone, and he watched as her eyebrows came together.

He glanced back towards the door, unsure of how to calm her down as the beeping started to become faster. Clint said to put on music, but Bucky didn't want to leave her side until she calmed down.

"Alana." Bucky's voice was unsure, quiet and wavering as he reached out his right hand towards her. Her muscles tightened and her head jerked to the side suddenly as a low whine passed through her lips. "Alana." His voice was a little louder the next time, and Bucky placed his hand on her arm. She flinched at the contact before her muscles relaxed slightly.

Her face contorted in pain, her eyes shutting tighter. It had Bucky out of the chair in the next second, his metal hand resting on the side of her face. "You're okay," He soothed, his voice still slightly unsure. "Alana, you're fine." He had never seen her have a nightmare before, but he recognized the signs.

Her breathing slowed slightly at his voice, and in the back of her mind, the feel of his cool metal hand was familiar to her. It stood out against the flashes of blood and pain she was seeing. "It's me," He tightened his grip slightly on her face, as if to pronounce the feeling. "It's Bucky."

As soon as he said his name, the heart rate monitor began to slow. Her body relaxed, and as Bucky took his hand away from her face, she twitched slightly. Instead, he took her hand, running his thumb over her knuckles repeatedly.

He wondered what she saw in her nightmares, and if they were as bad as his own. Most of Bucky's came from what he had remembered so far of his actions as The Winter Soldier. They were memories, which made it worse, because it had been real. He'd killed innocent people in cold blood.

Other times, they were old nightmares. Ones Bucky had nightmares from before he fell from Zola's train too. World War II nightmares of combat and explosions. Of not being able to feed himself growing up, ending up on the streets…again.

Most he had told Alana about, but she never mentioned her own. He guessed she had nightmares, had seen her come in with bags under her eyes, but he never asked what they were about. Bucky didn't know what she'd been through, not all of it.

Looking down at her face again, he knew that this was part of what she'd been through before. He knew about her fall into the chemical plant, had heard whispers that she'd been severely sick for a long time, and had a vague idea that her mother treated her like dirt.

Other than that, Bucky didn't know a lot. He had only seen her really smile a handful of times; he had only made her smile twice. Sure, she grinned a lot of the time, but it never reached her eyes, there was always something there.

A haunted look that Bucky recognized as one he saw in the mirror when he dared a look at his reflection. From how Steve spoke about her, she used to smile a lot more, used to laugh and make jokes.

He wondered what made that all change for her.

For Bucky, it was becoming the Soldier. But he was slowly coming back. He no longer looked like the Winter Soldier, but he didn't look exactly like Bucky Barnes either. He had scruff covering his chin and jawline now. Mostly there because he didn't want to leave Alana's bedside to go and shave, but he thought he'd keep it there now, not shave it away completely.

Steve had made a comment on it two days ago, said it made Bucky look older.

He sure as hell felt older.

Alana tensed again, bringing Bucky's attention back to her. He started stroking her knuckles again, having stopped when his thoughts drifted. "Calm down, doll, I'm not goin' anywhere."


	12. Chapter 11

_"Many veterans feel guilty because they lived while others died. Some feel ashamed because they didn't bring all their men home and wonder what they could have done differently to save them. When they get home they wonder if there's something wrong with them because they find war repugnant but also thrilling. They hate it and miss of their self-judgments go to extremes. A comrade died because he stepped on an improvised explosive device and his commander feels unrelenting guilt because he didn't go down a different street. Insurgents used women and children as shields, and soldiers and Marines feel a totalistic black stain on themselves because of an innocent child's face, killed in the firefight. The self-condemnation can be crippling._

_The Moral Injury, New York Times. Feb 17, 2015" _

_― __David Brooks_

* * *

Bucky had forgotten that Alana has an older brother.

It was Clint who reminded him as the S.H.I.E.L.D assassin pushed the door to Alana's room open nine days after she came back, grumbling about overreactions and sibling bonds.

"What are you saying?" It was Steve who asked first, his eyebrows raised at the archer from where he sat beside Alana's bed. Clint jabbed a finger towards Alana's still unconscious form.

"Her brother." He accused, "You call a dude to let him know his sister's in a bit of a coma and he just freaks out at yah!" Clint threw his hands up in the air.

"What else was he supposed to do?" Steve fought off a grin.

"Hell if I know, just don't yell at me, wasn't my fault." Clint pulled up another chair, collapsing into in with a sigh, "I said I'd call him when she wakes up. He can't come see her until she's back in her apartment."

Bucky chose to speak up for the first time since Clint came in, "Why not?"

"We're in a secret S.H.I.E.L.D facility. Civilians aren't cleared to know its location, that's what makes it secret." Clint ignored Bucky's glare, the brunette not finding the archer's sarcasm funny in the slightest. "You better wake up soon, Lana, Tony's starting to talk about coming down."

"That'd just make things more chaotic." Steve pressed his lips together. He still found Tony Stark to be a bit of an asshole.

"Tony Stark?" Bucky asked, Clint and Steve both looking at him instantly. His eyebrows were furrowed slightly as he remembered Alana mentioning the name a few months ago. His mouth skewed off to the side slightly as he fought harder to remember, his face relaxing all at once when he finally did. "Howard's son, right?"

"Yeah." Steve nodded his head.

"Alana mentioned him a few times. He sounds like a jerk."

"He is." Steve's response came without hesitation and a roll of his eyes. Bucky smirked at the reaction, interested now in what Tony was really like if he made Steve dislike him this much. Steve usually liked everybody…to a degree.

"Hold up," Clint raised a hand, "He's not _that _bad." His hand moved to point a finger at Steve, "He gave you a whole floor on his tower. All of us got one."

"If he just got off his high horse once in a while." Steve conceded, "He's still a glitterati."

"No one says glitterati anymore, Steve." Clint told the super soldier.

"Really?" Bucky was surprised, having understood exactly what Steve meant.

"Really, people will look at yah like you're a nut job."

"A what?"

"Like you're crazy." Steve explained, getting an understanding nod from Bucky.

"I'll tell her to go over outdated words and phrases with you, clearly she forgot." Clint promises, and Steve shrugs.

"She might just not notice when he uses them after helping me."

"Maybe."

Bucky glanced between Steve Rogers and Clint Barton. The two conversed easily, only making Bucky feel slightly out of place since they included him in the conversations as well. Either that, or it was the fact that Alana was there, and that made Bucky feel more like he belonged in the room.

He knew Steve. They had been best friends after all, way back before and during the war. He was sure that – with time – they could become closer again.

And Bucky felt as though he could become friends with the archer as well.

* * *

Alana woke up alone.

She didn't open her eyes right away, keeping them shut in order to not give away the fact that she was awake.

She had picked up the habit while she was in Batswana.

She could feel the sheets underneath her and the hospital gown that she was wearing. An oxygen mask was still over her nose and mouth, and an IV was stuck in her right arm. A consistent beeping took up the stillness, and she projected her senses outward in an attempt to see if she was alone.

After she was sure that there were no sounds of breathing or a body shifting, Alana let her eyelids slip upwards, only to squint instantly at the bright light that filled the room. White walls and tile floor were always a universal constant in medical rooms, so that didn't help her figure out whether she was safe or not.

Her eyes swept over the walls, stopping when she saw an empty nail. That was how she knew she was at S.H.I.E.L.D; it was where they hung the crucifix in the recovery rooms. It was missing, which meant that Clint had been there.

The realization put her at ease, her muscles relaxing into the sheets as her eyes looked over the other items in the room. Medical machines, a small refrigerator, a sink and cabinet. Three plastic chairs were there, one on either side of her bed, the third in the far corner opposite the door.

It reminded her of the last time she was here.

The thought brought the memories flooding back, and before she could stop them, she thought of him again. The little boy who lost his life because she was loyal to S.H.I.E.L.D.

Her captors had made him stand before her, his brown eyes wide with tears rolling down his face. It had been simple. Spill government secrets and the boy would live. But Alana hadn't done it, and she'd been forced to watch as they held a gun inches away from his forehead, she would have felt better if she'd pulled the trigger herself.

Her head lifts, Alana tearing her gaze away from the sheets, and then she can see him standing there.

"Kwa nini mimi?" (Why me?) He speaks Swahili; it was how she knew he had been a captive as well. His skin is darker than his hair, which is covered in blood and has been mostly chopped off. He's thin, his collarbone prominent as well as his ribs.

There's a bullet hole in his forehead.

"Kwa nini ni lazima nife?" (Why did I have to die?) She knows he's not real, knows he's not really there because she watched him fall to the floor in a lifeless heap.

The truth doesn't make it easier, and Alana closes her eyes, letting out a slow breath through her nose and counting to ten before opening her eyes again.

The boy is gone.

Seconds later, the doorknob twists open, and a familiar brunette freezes halfway through the doorway. He just stares, relief washing over him at the sight of her awake after so many days.

"You just gunna stare?" Alana's the first to speak up, snapping Bucky out of his trance. He makes his way over to his usual chair, "They give you free access?"

"Let me see you." His voice makes her lips pull upwards slightly. She would be lying if she said she hadn't missed him.

"Nice of them." Bucky shrugs his metal shoulder.

"I kinda let myself in the first time."

"What did I tell you about making a scene?"

"I think everyone was more focused on you."

She scoffed, "They should all know I'll be fine by now." She plays it off like it's no big deal.

"A lot of people were worried. Barton's here," She nodded, "So is Steve." Her eyebrows shoot up and Bucky smirks, "I've spent a lot of time with Steve in here."

"And it's all goin' okay?" Her words scratch against her throat at the end of her sentence, and Bucky is out of his seat a second later, walked over to the mini refrigerator that sat behind Alana's bed and came back a moment later with a water bottle in hand. Bucky unscrewed the cap, handing it to her as he spoke.

"Fine. Don't trust him much, but he," Bucky shrugged, pausing for a moment, "He cares about you." There was a few beats of silence as Alana drank a few mouthfuls before lowering the bottle from her lips.

"Steve cares about everybody." Alana screwed the cap back onto the water bottle, balancing it atop the sheets, "That's his problem."

"You don't care about everybody?" Bucky teased.

"Do you?" Alana deadpanned, her head tilting to the side slightly in question. Bucky shook his head, "Besides, Steve and I have been through a lot together."

"He told me some stories." Alana stayed silent, waiting for Bucky to continue, after a moment, he did. "Australia sounded like a fun time."

"He told you _that _story!"

"You get freaked out by wallabies?"

"Freaked out is an exaggeration." She defended herself, "And if there was one or two, then fine, but it was hundreds. Everywhere, their little beady eyes starring at you everywhere you went-"

"You threw a grenade at them."

"S.H.I.E.L.D had to pay fines because they're protected under Australian law."

Clint Barton and Steve Rogers spoke over each other as they entered the room. Alana scowled at them both, "Our target was there, I blew him to bits, remember?" She hugged them both in turn as she spoke, Clint running a protective hand over her hair, smoothing it down as he pulled away.

"And murdered fifty seven wallabies." He added on.

"Fifty nine I think is what it added up to." Steve corrected him, ducking as Alana threw one of the pillows that had been propping her up at his head.

"Give that back and stop bein' a-" Alana's coughing forced her to stop halfway through her sentence. Her hands covered her mouth as Bucky leaned forwards to unscrew the cap off her water bottle again for her. Alana accepted it from him with a gracious nod before gulping down a few mouthfuls.

Steve had retrieved the pillow, placing it behind her once again. She slapped his arm just to get back at him, getting a small smile from the super soldier.

"Oh," Clint spoke up as he took a seat beside her on the edge of the hospital bed, "The New York dream team all sends you their best wishes." Alana looked up at Clint and for a moment Steve and Bucky just watched as the two had a silent conversation between themselves.

Alana's eyebrows rose slightly, silently asking if the final member of their team was included. Clint smiled with only his eyes, and Alana felt a pang of loneliness and gratitude go through her at the same time.

She missed Natasha, her сестра. The two hadn't seen one another since Alana had just returned from Batswana, over a year ago. Yes, they had spoken over the phone, but it wasn't the same.

"Stark kept threatening to come over here if you didn't wake up soon." Steve told her, not bothering to keep his annoyance off his face.

"You should've told him to." Steve scowled, rolling his eyes. She redirected her gaze to Bucky, "Was he always this much of a drama queen?"

"I think he's toned it down a little bit, actually."

"You need to stop."

"Let me outta here and I will."

"You know you need to be checked over first." Clint reminded her, earning a sigh from Alana.

"I'm fine, see?" In the next moment she had ripped the IV out of her arm, letting the tube dangle beside her, the fluid dripping onto the floor.

Bucky's eyes widened, but he stayed in his seat. Clint's jaw tightened, his teeth grinding together. A red light flashed rapidly on the machine that the IV was attached to, and a moment later a nurse rushed into the room.

"Oh," She stopped short in the doorway, taking in the scene before her. Her eyes darted to each person in the room before she just settled on, "Your awake."

"For about an hour." Alana told her, watching carefully as the nurse approached her bedside. She looked as though she was a few years older than the other woman in the room, and Alana studied her side profile as she checked vital sign readings on the monitor.

While her head was turned, Bucky studied Alana, his eyes sweeping over her face. Making sure that all the bruises were healed, studying the sharp angles of her jawline he hadn't really noticed before her accident. She didn't look like someone who would be an assassin, but Steve's words echoed through Bucky's head.

_I don't think you understand how good she is at her job, Bucky. _

The nurse speaking up snapped Bucky out of his thoughts, "Everything looks like it's functioning properly. The doctor does want you under observation for the next thirty six hours, just until all the pain reducers we had you on work completely out of your system." Alana nodded her head, she didn't need the observation time, her body worked the drugs out of her system faster than a normal human, but she had learned to not argue with what the doctors' told her years ago. "Although, in order for that to work quickly, you will need to abstain from taking your regular prescriptions during that time. We can move you to the residence ward 15b, if you'd like."

"Please." The young nurse nodded her head, smiling slightly at the room's occupants before making her way out.

After the door was closed behind her, Alana looked over to Clint. "When do I meet with superiors?"

"After your detoxing hours are up. I spoke with a few people, you won't be scheduled to go out in the field," Alana scowled, "Because you're still on duty with him," Clint explained, nodding to Bucky. Alana's scowl was gone in seconds, and she nodded in understanding. "But if there's an emergency, you're on call."

"Okay." She agreed, studying her supervising officer's face, "What's the bad news?" Clint didn't even try to lie and say there was none; she knew him too well.

"They gave you time off to go spend with your family."

* * *

**Sorry it's been a while since I updated! Not sure when I'll update again, I'm off to orientation for college and then my schedule gets a bit jammed for a few weeks!**

**Don't forget to review! It's my favorite thing ever, makes me very very happy!**


	13. Chapter 12

**Warning: This chapter may be disturbing to some readers. Has mentions of child abuse and suicide. If you don't want to read about that skip down to where it says two weeks later following the first section break. I inserted two chapters in one for those who wish to skip and I'll insert a short summary at the bottom for those who skipped the first part.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Marvel, sadly.**

* * *

_"She's caught in the crossfire_

_Puts her hands over her ears_

_Starts talking through her tears_

_She's saying, she's praying._

_I wish words were like little toy guns_

_No sting, no hurt no one, Just a bang bang rollin' off your tongue_

_I wish words were like little toy guns"_

_Little Toy Guns – Carrie Underwood_

* * *

"They said you have to come home?" Tommy's voice was confused over the phone, and his little sister let out a breath, running a hand through her hair.

"Kind of, new chic in charge doesn't get that me goin' home isn't exactly a way for me to relax. No offense to you, but I'd rather stay here and do nothin'." Alana paused, listening as Tommy sighed on the other end, "But Clint is speaking with her. I'm not allowed to go myself so he's pleading that since I spent so much time away from my current charge while unconscious, it would make more sense for me to take recovery time here."

"If he doesn't get you outta it, it'll be fine." His voice was soft. "It's Grandma's house, from what I hear, half the time mother isn't even home."

Years ago, after Alana had started having more money than she wanted for herself, she had given a lot to her family. They hadn't questioned it, and bought a big house out west. Her mother lived with her grandparents, so when Alana went home, it was to Kansas. That side of her family had always been there.

They had moved to Boston because of her father. Stayed in Boston because their mother had been too lazy to do much else after he was no longer there.

"You'd be there, right?" Alana checked, needing him to say yes.

"What's the dates?"

"I'd ship out in a week, stay for four days." There was a beat of silence, and Alana heard Tommy flipping through some papers.

"I can be there."

"Thank God." She doesn't know what she would do if he had said no. Her eyes snap up when two knocks sound on her door, "Hey," The door opens a moment later, a grin spreads across Alana's lips when Bucky walks through the door. His eyes widen slightly when he sees she's on the phone, but Alana waves him in further. "I gotta go now."

Her older brother sighs at the other end, "You call when you find out, alright?"

"I will, promise."

"Okay, talk to you soon, love you."

"Love you too." Alana hung up her phone a moment later, sitting up straighter as she shoved it into her pocket and looked to Bucky, who lingered by the door that he had since closed. "Tommy." She explains, and Bucky nods, too focused on looking her over to formulate a response.

Something's off. The way she sits up straighter than usual, the tenseness he can see in her shoulders, how her eyes don't quite meet his.

"Are you okay?" His question surprised her into silence. Alana knows the answer.

She's not okay. That's what bothers her. She's been on hundreds of missions, she's killed people before, she's been injured in the field.

But this time was different. Alana's struggling to keep herself together and she doesn't know why, so she lies. "I'm fine." Of course he sees right through her. Bucky knows her well enough by now.

"Bullshit."

"Excuse me?"

"You're not fine, Alana." Bucky makes his way into her room now, the layout matches his own, and sits at the end of her bed. "I know you don't trust me with everything, but don't _lie _to me."

"James," She meets his gaze now. His head is tilted slightly to the side, confused as to why she used his real name. "I'd trust you with my life." He does his half smile then, and the feeling hits her in the gut.

She thinks of how easy, how natural, it would be to let those three little words just slip past her tongue. Alana keeps them in though, because she's not some teenager, and then Bucky's speaking again, his voice lower now.

"I don't know anything about you."

"That's not true." Bucky raised an eyebrow in challenge.

"Isn't it?" He asks, "All I know is that you're a S.H.I.E.L.D agent who's helped me get back on my feet. I know you trained with Barton, and that you've helped Steve. I know you saved New York, and that something happened in Batswana."

As soon as the word's out of his mouth, he can see her shutting down. The light seems to leave her eyes, and Alana's shoulders sag. "What happened in Batswana?"

"I'm not talking about it." Her voice is almost monotone, and she pushed herself up off the bed.

"Come on, they told me about your fall." She doesn't react to that, her lips only settling into a thin line. "I think if you-"

"James, shut up." She was back to calling him James. He got up and took a step closer to her, standing up taller and getting in her space as he defiantly glared down at her. She couldn't take it and turned around as she felt tears threatening to well up. She pushed the feeling down, running her hands through her hair. Alana couldn't talk about that, not right now, not when she was already this close to falling apart.

She wanted to punch something, to just let loose and let herself go. That's what she always did with Barton after a tough mission. But she was stuck in here instead.

Bucky wasn't done trying to get an answer though, "Alana, tell-"

"I said _shut up!_" She screamed at him as she whirled back around. Bucky's eyes widened, his eyebrows almost disappearing into his hairline. "What part of shutting the fuck up don't you get!?" Alana ran her hands over her face, and it was then that Bucky noticed the tears.

He was there a moment later, his anger dissolving away as he wrapped his arms around her. "Go away." It was a pathetic attempt to sound enraged still, but she tried all the same.

"No." He said it into her hair, tightening his grip around her slightly. Bucky felt her hands latch around the fabric of his shirt. "I'm helping you through this."

"I can get through it on my own." Her words were broken, and Bucky rested his chin atop her head.

"Thing is," He whispered softly, "You don't have to."

Alana was silent as she struggled to push down the growing lump that was lodged in her throat. Her hands clutched to Bucky like a vice as she tried to focus on the ever present soft humming that came from his cybernetic arm. She didn't know why she was so upset over what had just happened.

The mission went south, it happened all the time. She almost died all the time. She should be fine.

_"It's embarrassing to call you my daughter."_ Her mother's voice rang in her head. She had heard those words all the time, different variations of the same phrase every single day.

Alana tries to push her mother's voice away, tries to focus on the feeling of Bucky's arms around her, his chin atop her head. She can't though, and her voice breaks through her mind, sharp as a whistle. _"I should've gotten that damn abortion." _

Her hands tighten even more a moment before the sob rips up her throat. It's a broken, strangled sound that breaks Bucky's heart.

To him, Alana is one of the strongest people he's ever met. Watching her train, seeing her determination and drive, hearing stories about her, Bucky admires her for all of it. His mind could never picture her like this, sobbing in his arms, clutching his shirt like a lifeline.

"Let it out," He tells her, running his metal hand over her back gently, "No one's here but me." He can feel it in his gut that Alana keeping herself together is a point of pride for her. She doesn't want to be seen as weak, and this is what she thinks weak is. He knows she doesn't want anyone to see her this way.

"I'm-"

"Don't." He cuts her off before she can even finish talking. "You don't apologize for this." He feels her nod, accepting his words because she's too tired – too upset – to do anything else.

* * *

"Bucky." He looks up from the end of the bed when she says his name.

Alana had cried herself to sleep hours ago, and Bucky had put her down on the bed and stayed with her while she slept. His blue eyes look to her face, watching as her eyes opened slowly.

"I trust you." She tells him, and Bucky's mouth falls into a slight frown. He doesn't want to upset her again with this topic.

"We don't have to-"

"Let me finish." Now it's Alana cutting him off, and Bucky shuts his mouth. "When I was four years old, my father came home from being deployed overseas." She lets out a breath before speaking again, Bucky's eyes staying trained on her face. "He was in the Army. He came back pretty messed up, but kept it together for the most part. He was good to me and Tommy, spent a lot of time with us."

"You don't have to tell me this." Alana's jaw set slightly.

"You don't believe I trust you, this is me trusting you, Bucky, so just let me tell you." The brunette nodded and Alana took a deep breath before continuing. "My father was pretty fucked up when he came home though. He had nightmares, flashbacks, the whole PTSD thing. He and mother starting fightin' a lot, and he would end up leaving for days at a time. They'd fight over everything, but mostly it turned to be me. My mother hadn't wanted a second kid, and my father had been the one to convince her."

Alana's eyes had a faraway look in them, and Bucky knew she wasn't seeing him, but her family and memories from her childhood. "My father got discharged for misconduct and we had to move into a little apartment in the bad part of Boston. Two bedrooms, but not much else, I slept in the kitchen on a pile of blankets. My parents would fight over money issues, then mother would always point out how it'd be better – easier to deal with – if I wasn't there. I'd sit the closet sometimes when they fought, clamp my hands over my ears so I couldn't hear so much of it. Mother got real bad when he was gone for days at a time. She started hittin' me. Beat me up real good a few times to where I couldn't go to school."

Alana paused as Bucky's hands clenched into fists, his arm humming softly as it worked. "I was only seven when my father left for good. We'd been livin' in that apartment for almost a year, and he took off like he usually did. Told Tommy and I to keep on fightin'." A tear rolls down Alana's face, though she hurriedly wipes it away, "We," She swallows the lump in her throat, "We got word two weeks later." She lets out a breath through her nose, "He drove right off the bridge. Killed instantly. We had a funeral a week later, though my mother said I wasn't allowed to go. She told me he did it to get away from me."

Alana felt like she was seven years old again, sitting on the floor in that apartment, tears streaming down her face as her mother screamed at her. "Things got worse after. She started drinkin' and couldn't hold a job. I started pick pocketing to get a few extra bucks. I got real good at that real fast. She'd come home all out of it, and most of the time I'd be in the way. I always did something wrong. The way I dressed, the way I spoke, the way I walked." Alana looked up at Bucky then, and he was almost taken aback at how small she suddenly looked.

Yes, Alana Mercer wasn't a big person – physically at least – but she made up for it with her personality. She always gave off an aura of being larger, of being stronger and more independent than anyone else in the room. Now, her walls were all down, and Bucky felt as though he was looking at a completely different person. "Do you know what it's like to have your own mother tell you she wished you were never born?"

No, he didn't know. Bucky didn't remember much of his mother, but the memories he did have were good ones. A gentle, caring woman who would tuck him in at night and hold his hand while they crossed the street.

"She was always nice to Tommy. He tried to reason with her, once we were older, tell'er to stop beatin' me up, to quit yellin' at me so much. She didn't take'em seriously. Told'em that he didn't understand. There wasn't anything he could do to help me. So I took it all, for eleven fuckin' I took all of it. She didn't let me have any friends, she didn't let me do any sports."

Alana pauses, her eyes shifting down to stare in her lap, and Bucky takes the silence as an opportunity to ask a question, "Why didn't you fight back?"

"I did," He can barely hear her whisper, "I snuck out at night, to get away, got with some bad people who taught me to fight." She looked up at him again, and Bucky reached a hand over as a tear slid down her face, "I stopped after she took out the knife."

She watched as the horror flashed through his eyes, and her next words made Bucky's heart clench. "Why doesn't she love me?" The tears came back full force then, and Alana buries her face in her hands. "What the fuck did I ever do!"

When his arms go around her again, she automatically turns to rest her forehead against his sternum. He smells like the gym and the aftershave he had gotten weeks ago, a smell that Alana's mind already connects to the Winter Soldier immediately. It helps her relax, and within only a few minutes, she has her tears under control.

She's working on getting her breathing right again when he goes to lay her down, unwrapping his arms so that he can sit up. Her grip tightens on his shirt, and Bucky looks down at her, creases appearing between his eyebrows.

"Stay."

"I'll be right here." He promises, thinking that she should know that by now, but Alana shakes her head.

"I need you closer." He's never heard her plead before, "Bucky, please." He tells himself he nods because he wants her to feel better. Though in reality he has no clue as to why. Maybe it's because he wants to stay closer, to keep holding her in his arms, or maybe it's because she said she needs him, and right now being needed feels familiar to him.

He ignores the voice in the back of his head telling him that he's glad she's picked _him_. He's not hers to have. She's not his girl.

He lays back down though, maybe for a combination of all the reasons that fly through his brain, his arms encircling her once more and bringing her closer so her head is on his chest.

Alana can feel his heart beating through his thin shirt. One of her hands rests on his cybernetic arm.

He used to flinch when she touched the appendage, not familiar to the physical contact or comfortable with having to acknowledge that it was apart of him. Now though, he barely notices.

With his right hand, Bucky trails his fingers lightly over her back. He knows that tomorrow morning she'll pretend all of this never happened. She'll have her walls back up and be the Agent Mercer he knows.

It hits him then that some day – most likely sooner rather than later – whoever is in charge will decide that she no longer needs to help him. Alana will be sent out on longer missions, being gone for maybe months at a time, and even when those are over, she won't be required to come back and see him.

Bucky doesn't like that possibility, doesn't know what he would do if she left and he never saw her again. She doesn't need him, as much as he would like for that to be true.

He's sure that he doesn't need her there either. Bucky could get by, after some time to adjust, he's sure of that. It wouldn't be easy, and in the back of his mind he knows he wouldn't be as happy.

Alana makes him happy, it's a fact that he didn't realize until she woke up.

* * *

Two weeks later – Late June

* * *

Bucky's assumption that Alana would act as though that night never happened was correct, and Clint had managed to get her out of going home. The latter explained why Alana stood, arms crossed over her chest, as she watched Bucky pull on a long sleeved shirt at six in the morning.

To go out in public, he needed his arm to be covered.

"Where're we going?" He asked her as he flipped the hood down and ran a hand through his hair. It was getting long again and Alana had mentioned he should get a haircut a few days ago.

"We can walk around the National Mall for a bit, then you can come see my place if you want. I was told you can get your own place soon." He nodded curtly, nerves building up in his stomach.

Alana put a hand on his arm, and when Bucky looked into her eyes, he couldn't find the scared, broken girl he had held in his arms two weeks ago. Before him was a soldier, someone strong and determined. "You're goin' to be fine." She promised him, "If anything goes south, I'm 'ere for yah."

She half smiled at him then, something she had been doing more often in the last two weeks as well, "Maybe you'll get to meet my neighbors."

"I'll be covered in sweat." He grumbled, tugging the sleeves lower to try and cover more of his arm.

"It's early, and it's supposed to be cloudy today. It's like, seventy degrees out right now." As if to prove a point, Alana shrugged on her leather jacket, "See, even I'm in a jacket."

"Okay." Bucky fiddled with the dog tags that hung around his neck. Steve had given them back to him last week. The two weren't best friends again, but they had a closer relationship than a month ago. Steve had gone through the trouble of getting Bucky's original tags that he had worn in the war back from the Smithsonian. They always hung around Bucky's neck now, they felt familiar to him, a feeling he clung too like a lifeline.

Twenty minutes later and Bucky was following Alana up a flight of stairs, a large statue of Abraham Lincoln looking down over them. It was almost six-thirty in the morning, and more early runners were starting to come outside.

"You remember what I told you about Lincoln?" Alana asked, glancing back at Bucky over her shoulder, a teasing grin played on her lips. So far, he had done fantastically well outside of the S.H.I.E.L.D compound. Her jab at him made him smirk, the tension leaving his body just a little bit more.

"I learned about him in high school. I'm not _that _old." She shrugged, and stifled a laugh when Bucky added, "Fifteenth President of the United States."

"Sixteenth President." She corrected, having to stop as she barked out a laugh. Bucky kept going up the steps, his shoulder bumping against hers on his way past.

"Never said I passed the damn class." He muttered under his breath, making her laugh harder. She couldn't see the smile her laughter brought onto his face.

She caught up to him at the top of the stairs, both of them gazing up at Lincoln's marble face. ""Fourscore and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this continent a new nation, conceived in liberty and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal. Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation or any nation so conceived and so dedicated can long endure. We are met on a great battlefield of that war. We have come to dedicate a portion of that field as a final resting-place for those who here gave their lives that that nation might live." Alana stood with her hands clasped behind her back, Bucky watching in awe from her side as she recited Lincoln's famous speech from memory. "It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this. But in a larger sense, we cannot dedicate, we cannot consecrate, we cannot hallow this ground. The brave men, living and dead who struggled here have consecrated it far above our poor power to add or detract. The world will little note nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us the living rather to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us-that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion-that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain, that this nation under God shall have a new birth of freedom, and that government of the people, by the people, for the people shall not perish from the earth."

There was silence for a few moments before Bucky spoke up, "You memorized it?" Alana shrugged her shoulders once, her face scrunching up into a 'whatever' face.

"I'm a bit of a history buff."

"A what?" He asked, confused by her choice of words.

"History buff, it's when someone knows a lot about history, specifically a certain time period."

"Yours is the civil war?" She smirked, shaking her head.

"Naw, I just like Lincoln's speeches. I focused on World War II." Bucky's eyebrows rose, making her smirk widen as she turned on her heel to head back towards the reflection pool, "Why'd you think they assigned _me _to help Steve?"

Bucky didn't miss a beat with his sarcastic response, "I thought it was your sunny personality." She glared at him and if his hands weren't required to be in his pockets for obvious reasons, he would've lifted them in mock surrender. He settled for raising his eyebrows instead.

"I'll shove you in the reflection pool."

"I feel like that's illegal."

"I'm a federal agent and I've had dinner with the President on multiple occasions; I'd get a pass."

"What's our next stop?" Bucky changed the subject before she actually started to get irritated with him.

Her features softened immediately, and she smiled slightly at him, "That's a surprise." She said, jerking her head over her shoulder in a motion for him to follow. Bucky fell into step beside her, briefly wondering what it'd be like to hold her hand, but decided against it a second later.

She was, more or less, his boss. She was in charge of him, and when he thought of it that way, the word handler came to mind. Alana had told him how agents of S.H.I.E.L.D all had handlers. As a member of S.T.R.I.K.E TEAM: DELTA, Alana's handler had first been a man named Phil Coulson. She had choked up slightly talking about the man, and then informed Bucky he had been killed just before the Battle of New York. Steve had known him as well, spoken quite highly of him too. Now Alana's handler, as well as Clint and Natasha's, was a lady by the name of Sarah Jones. It had been Nick Fury for a while, until Bucky – The Winter Soldier – had killed him.

Neither of them had been informed that he was – in fact – still alive. It was a fact that kept Steve up at night.

Bucky thought that holding his handler's hand, for one, was inappropriate since he didn't know if she felt the same way regarding him, and two, made him sound like a dog.

So he kept his hands firmly in his pockets, making sure no one could see him cybernetic arm.

When they turned the corner and Bucky saw their destination, he froze on the spot.

The Howling Commandos Memorial had been built shortly after the end of World War II. Erected in marble and standing behind a black granite plague inscribed with all their names stood an eight-foot tall statue of Captain America and James Buchanan Barnes. Their figures were bent over a table, a map between the two as Bucky pointed out an unknown location.

"This one's my favorite." Alana whispered, breaking Bucky out of his trance and urging him to move closer. His eyes drifted over to a glass case; his mouth opened, but he couldn't find the words to ask. "That's your rifle, and you earned those after…" she trailed off, not wanting to bring it up.

"After I fell." Bucky finished, staring wide eyed at the medals and decorations. A bronze star, a medal of honor, a prisoner of war medal, two purple hearts, a silver star, a World War II victory medal, and an Army Valorous Unit Award ribbon. "I got all this?" He looked over at Alana, stunned. She nodded her head.

"You deserve all this."

* * *

**Thanks for reading! A short summary if anyone skipped the middle section: Alana grew up mostly with her mother after her father committed suicide when she was seven years old. Her mother was extremely abusive to her, and Tommy couldn't help her in any way. In the end, Bucky ends up spending the night with her.**

**Please feel free to review, they're my favorite things!**


	14. Chapter 13

**Hi everyone! Sorry it's been awhile between updates, I've started working more. Thank you so much for all the reviews, favorites, and follows! I love reviews so much and they keep me writing!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything. Not true I have two horses, but in this regard they don't apply to this story. Wish I owned Bucky.**

* * *

_"Waiting for you to come home is the hardest thing I've ever had to do…maybe it's because I love you."_

* * *

Alana was sent out again a week later, three days after passing a physiological examination. When she left, they didn't tell Bucky. Of course he found out she was gone, he noticed when she didn't show up to visit like she usually did.

He sent her a text message, which she had taught him how to do herself, but received no reply.

So, Bucky had spent the day in the gym, beating away at a punching bag and ignoring the wrenched feeling of his gut. Just a few hours before dawn, the glass door was pushed open, and he looked up to see her walk through the doors.

"What's up?" She asked casually, as though she never left, and dropped her bag on the floor, crossing her arms over her chest. Alana looked fine, she even had on more makeup than she usually did. It was in the next moment that Bucky realized she could just have a boyfriend. She could have been spending the day with him, since Bucky was about to be cleared to move out of the S.H.I.E.L.D compound any day now. He'd gone outside, with Alana, three times in the past week.

He felt like a clingy idiot, but managed to get the words out calmly. "What's the bag for?"

She glanced at it, shrugging her shoulders nonchalantly, "Just got back from Greenland." The space between his eyebrows and hairline reduced, but Bucky didn't say anything, so she continued. "Stopped by the weapons ward first though, so the bloody knife is gone."

"Am I allowed to ask what you did?"

"No." She deadpanned, grabbing the top strap of the bag and dragging it along with her as she walked towards him, taking a seat on a bench a few feet away. "But if you were, I'd tell you that I assassinated a mercenary operative."

His lips quirked upwards slightly, the nerves dissipating as he sat down beside her. "And if you told me that, I guess I'd have to say I'm glad you're alright."

"And then I'd say it was an easy mission."

"Good thing you can't tell me, we'd run out of things to talk about after that." He teased her and Alana chuckled, shaking her head slightly at him.

Once again, she had missed him while she was gone. Even in the last week, he was recovering more so than ever before. Bucky was his own person again, and according to Steve, he was more like the Bucky Barnes Steve had grown up with. Along with the return of the old Bucky Barnes came the charming persona and an ever-growing confidence in himself.

Alana felt like she was drawn even more to him; like a moth to a flame.

"You'd find something to say," She quipped back, "Yah neva seem to shut up nowadays."

"What if I told you that you look lovely all dolled up?" She didn't believe him, but the compliment still brought a blush onto her cheeks.

"I don't even have the dress on anymore." Bucky feigned offense, rolling his eyes at her. Alana's lips quirked up a little more.

"Well," Bucky stood up, holding out a hand to her, "If a dame's all dolled up, she's gotta dance with someone." She opened her mouth to protest, but he cut her off, "Word around town is that you're a hell of a dancer, Alana."

"So Steve told yah." Bucky shrugged his shoulders, pushing his flesh hand closer to her.

"Kid's never been able to keep his mouth shut." His dark eyebrows rose higher up his forehead, "Please? Just one dance?"

"There's no music." She pointed out, her heart skipping a beat when Bucky half-smirked down at her.

"Then I'll sing. Or just turn on that radio in the corner." Alana's lips pursed together, and Bucky pouted softly. "_Please?_" She caved then, reaching out and taking his hand.

"One moment." Bucky threaded their fingers together before walking over to the radio. He reached up and pressed the power button. Soft music from the 40's filled the room, the track playing from the CD Bucky had purchased the second time Alana took him out of the compound.

He turned to face her then, holding their already joined hands up. Alana rested her other hand on his shoulder, Bucky smirking again as he put his metal hand on her waist. She took the moment to study his face again.

Bucky had left a small amount of stubble along his jawline, but his hair was cut shorter again, combed back like it had been during the war.

He led her as the sound of a trumpet filled the room, and she smiled as he sang along to the lyrics. "Stars shining bright above you. Night breezes seem to whisper 'I love you'. Birds singing in a sycamore tree. Dream a little dream of me." Their eyes stayed trained on one another as Bucky moved them around the gym floor.

He spun her once, making her smile widen before he brought her back to him, closer than she had been before. It was an old trick he had always used on girls whenever he took them dancing.

She was only inches away from him, and Bucky felt like himself in the moment. He smirked, which makes her smile, and then spins her around again. As he brings her back towards him, he sneaks closer. Alana laughed softly, shaking her head as she looked up at him.

"Do yah think you're discreet, Casanova?" He blushed slightly, shrugging his shoulders as they turn.

"It was an attempt." He gives up on discreet then and slows their pace down, resting his forehead against hers. Alana's breath hitches slightly, her eyes closing. "You make me feel like myself again."

His breath warms her face, and she swallows before replying to him. "That's a good thing?"

"Mmhmm." He hums, closing his eyes as well.

"I need to tell you something." He stiffens, but doesn't make any other move, so Alana continues. "I got back a few hours ago. I was being debriefed." In an unforgotten movement, Bucky moves them across the floor. He keeps them both dancing slowly as she speaks. "I'm no longer assigned to you." The grin that was on his lips falls right away, and when Bucky opens his eyes, she's already studying his face. Looking for a reaction.

She doesn't get much of one. "So, now what?" He asks her.

"S.T.R.I.K.E Team: Delta is being reactivated. Me, Clint, and Natasha are all on standby to be sent into New Guinea. And you," She looks him in the eye, and he knows what she's going to say next, "I was told that you're a part of the Avengers Initiative now."

"They said I can help take out Hydra." His rough voice is barely above a whisper, but she hears him perfectly. "The past few flashbacks I've been able-"

"I'm not worried about that." She cuts him off, "Not about the flashbacks, I know you can handle yourself now."

"Then why do you sound like you're fretting?" She grins at his word choice, but doesn't call him out on it.

"I just don't want you getting hurt." Alana tells the truth, and it has Bucky pulling back, just slightly, so he can laugh.

"I have a metal arm and enhanced healing. I'll be fine."

"And I'm the equivalent of a kid accidently dropping a rat into the science experiment jar." Alana quips back, "A science experiment on steroids."

"You're prettier than a rat." Alana blushes and puts her head on Bucky's shoulder so he can't see.

"Thanks." He chuckles and she can feel his chest rumble. Without hesitating, he tilts his head to press a kiss to her hair, his cybernetic arm whirring softly as he squeezes her hand.

* * *

_Two months later – Early September_

* * *

"We've been out here for over a month." Alana pointed out, looking between Clint Barton and Natasha Romanoff. Her two mentors exchanged a glance, then looked back at their younger team member, who walked a few steps ahead along the dirt road.

"She's whiny again." The redheaded Russian noticed, and Clint shrugged his shoulders.

"I told you. It's all because of Barnes."

"Will you two shut the fuck up?" She glared at them over her shoulder, her dark eyes narrowed. "Should be grateful I'm back to normal."

"I am." Natasha's statement was genuine. Even if she was in hiding for months, she had heard how bad Alana's condition had gotten.

"I think you're still mad that we had to leave before Cap's birthday." Clint mused. Alana kicked at a pebble as she passed one by, a scowl making it's way onto her lips.

"I had actually gotten him a gift this year."

"Was it from Party City again?" Natasha covered her smile with a hand, Clint elbowing her in the side slightly, "You remember that?"

"Yes." Tasha nodded.

"It was on sale."

"They were Captain America bed sheets." Clint deadpanned.

"Look me in the eyes and tell me you wouldn't have bought them." Alana challenged as she readjusted her rifle on her shoulder.

They had been in the New Guinea wilderness for the past six weeks. Their mission had been simple: find the mercenary camps and burn them to the ground. The camps had been getting restless, which then grew into out of hand.

Now though, they were finally heading to the rendezvous point to get picked up by a chopper. From there, they were going to be brought to London for a week layover before going back to the States.

S.H.I.E.L.D had staff stationed all over the globe, London being a focal point. Even though nothing went majorly wrong during the mission, all three of them were required to undergo the physiological examination and fill out the debriefing paperwork. The paperwork alone would take days to complete.

They had taken out all threatening camps, but the natives were still unpredictable, so Alana kept her rifle and pistol at the ready. She always was a bit anxious around cannibals.

Alana had dropped her guard for a few moments two weeks ago and ended up with a spear in her calf.

"You two act like children."

"Only when we're not working, Tasha." Alana smiled softly back at Natasha, who nodded her head fondly. It was the one thing that all three of them had enjoyed about the past six weeks; they were together.

As she turned back around, two flat metal plates bounced against her sternum. Bucky's dog tags hung from a metal chain around her neck, so in a way, a part of him was there too. He hadn't given them to her directly, but she had found an envelope stuffed into the bottom of her bag a week into their mission in the rainforest. Her name had been written in cursive on the front.

Bucky's letter hadn't been long, but short and to the point. He wanted her to stay safe and he wanted her to wear his dog tags until he saw her again. Bucky had explained how he would be working on furthering his own training with Steve, even introducing firearms again.

Alana wonders briefly how that had gone. If that was five weeks ago, then Bucky and Steve could have been sent out on a mission by now. She knows Steve would watch out for him, Bucky was, had been, his best friend, after all.

A sharp whistle piercing the air made Alana halt dead in her tracks, her hand instantly finding the pistol on her hip and flipping off the safety, her finger hovering over the trigger.

She looks back to Clint, who was responsible for the warning sound, and raises an eyebrow. His bow in one hand, he quickly signs 'Stay quiet' with the other before stringing an arrow. Natasha already has her gun up and ready to fire.

Alana scans the tree line to her right, looking for any sort of movement. As a branch sways opposite the direction the wind is blowing, Alana fires into the brush. An arrow from Clint follows a moment later, and she hears a solid mass hit the forest floor with a dull thump and rustling of disturbed plants.

"Run." Natasha's voice is barely above a whisper, but Alana's mind doesn't question any order that comes from Natasha Romanoff, and she's sprinting down the dirt path in the next moment, Clint and Tasha keeping up behind her.

Alana throws her body to the ground when she hears something piercing through foliage to her right. She rolls, ducking her right shoulder down to make the landing smooth before rolling up onto her knee and firing two quick shots into the jungle.

She hears another body hit the ground before she's up again, trailing behind her two comrades. It's easy for her to catch up.

Alana watches as Natasha takes down a third rogue mercenary. The redhead keeping the man at bay until she gets an opening and her booted foot collides with his head. He falls down to the ground, motionless. "Mercer." Alana shoots him in the head once, right between the eyes. Natasha nods, "Let's go."

Clint is a few yards away; bow still loaded as his eyes scan the surroundings. "I think that's all there was."

"If I had a dime-"

"Don't start, Alana." Natasha cuts the younger woman off, who grins sheepishly, but keeps her mouth shut all the same. "We have a chopper to catch."


	15. Chapter 14

**Thanks for all the reviews, follows, and favorites! Here's a nice easy chapter I hope you all like!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing Marvel related that you'll encounter in this chapter. Except for Alana, I made her up myself.**

* * *

_Keep your head up. God gives his hardest battles to his strongest soldiers._

* * *

"Alana." Her head snapped up at the sound of her name. She screwed her eyes shut at once, the brightness of the office light burning them momentarily. "Did you even go home?" When she opened her eyes slowly again, Natasha stood in the doorway, arms over her chest.

"No." Alana knew not to even bother lying, "The bed's too soft."

"Sleeping at your desk isn't going to make it easier." The redhead stated, walking to the other side of the room and turning on the coffee maker.

"Helps me get this shitload of paperwork done faster." Alana glanced around the room for a moment, "Have you seen Theo lately?" She asked, "He was supposed to come down here last night and sign some supervisor papers."

"He didn't show?" Natasha wasn't too surprised. The stout British man often forgot about last minute meetings he was supposed to attend. He was a hell of a doctor though, so S.H.I.E.L.D kept him around.

"No, I shot him a text too." Alana smirked as she saw the message she had sent just before one in the morning. '_Get your goddamn British ass down here.' _

"Well, they're looking for someone to pilot a Quinjet to go pick up some agents just outside of France. If you want, I can get those papers signed for you." Alana shook her head immediately.

"I can't ask you to do that." She denied Natasha's offer politely, "You hate paperwork almost as much as I do." Natasha smirked.

"They're waiting for you in the hanger to launch."

"Really?" Alana was already pushing her chair back from the desk and getting to her feet.

"Go Солнышко моё." (My sun)

"Ты такая добрая." (You are kind). Alana nodded her thanks as she passed by her mentor, who smiled softly in return.

Her boot-clad feet echoed down the hallway as Alana walked briskly towards the S.H.I.E.L.D hanger area. She used both hands to tie her hair up in a ponytail, and with each step she became more Agent Mercer than Alana. She held her chin up just a bit higher, and nodded curtly to those who gave her recognition as she passed.

When she arrived at the Quinjet, her face was stoic, hands clasped together behind her back. "Where's the pickup?" She asked the man who was standing by the downed loading ramp. She recognized him as Agent Marks. They had worked together four years ago on a brief mission in Zambia.

"Longitude fifty degrees North, latitude two degrees East." She nodded again, clapping Marks on the shoulder as she passed as a greeting. "You remember how to pilot this?"

"I'm the best pilot in this facility, second to Barton."

"Of course." He grinned at her as she boarded the ship. "Radio in if you run into trouble." He knew she wouldn't, Alana always handled the situations herself.

"Will do." She lied before pushing the red button on the side, the ramp lifting upwards to close the hatch of the jet. Alana easily found the pilot's cabin and picked up the headset, placing it over her head and flipping the switch on the side.

"This is Quinjet 842, piloted by Agent Mercer requesting takeoff out of gate C." There was a beat of silence through her headset before a voice crackled to life.

"Request granted, Agent Mercer. Have a safe flight."

"Thanks." She backed the Quinjet out of its spot slowly, watching the guidance men out the front window as they motioned for her to keep backing. Ahead of her, the end of the building opened up, revealing the bright blue skies and allowing sunlight to shine down into the hanger.

Five minutes later and Alana was in the air, soaring over the English Channel towards her given coordinates. If she hadn't done it a million times already, Alana would've felt strange not having a copilot by her side. Usually she was the copilot and Clint was the one flying the plane.

During a mission in Japan five years ago she'd been forced to pilot a jet by herself. She'd had to learn fast in order to get out alive. Now it was almost easy for her when she got into a tight situation.

This errand would be simple.

Alana stifled a yawn with the back of her hand before pressing the radio button to her left. She cringed slightly at the pop music that came through the speakers, made a mental note to find out who last piloted this jet so she could give them a hard time, and then changed the dial until she heard the soothing voices of Paul, Ringo, George, and John. That had to be her favorite part about England; there was always one station playing her beloved Beatles.

A normal flight from London to the France border she was headed for would take a little over an hour, but in the Quinjet Alana made it in an easy forty minutes.

Landing was simple enough; Alana found a clearing by a river at the coordinates she was given. There was no sign of any awaiting agents, which only clued her in on the fact that they were veterans.

You never waited for your extraction out in the open. It put too many lives at risk, no matter the mission.

Alana unbuckled her seat belt, put the jet on standby, and lowered the ramp before rising out of her seat and grabbing a glock seven pistol. It was colder outside than it had been in London, making Alana wish for a moment she had grabbed her jacket on the way out as she kept her finger hovering over the trigger. She stopped at the end of the ramp, leaning her back against the Quinjet to wait for the agents to appear.

A minute later, they did. Alana saw the shield first, the circular red, white, and blue disk unmistakable as Steve held it on his arm. The sight of one of her best friends brought a grin to her face, which widened when she saw the familiar cybernetic armed figure just behind him.

"_You're _our extraction pilot?" Steve pretended to be annoyed as she made her way towards him. Alana smirked; slapping his arm after tucking the pistol into the waistband of her pants, and then pulled him in for a hug.

"Shove it, Rogers." She felt his chest rumble with laughter, and he let her go a few seconds later.

Alana paused as her eyes looked Bucky over. He seemed frozen where he stood, his eyes raking over her form, taking all of her in.

He hadn't seen her in such a long time.

To her, he looked as though he'd gained even more muscle. He looked healthier, and she took note of the laugh lines that were by his mouth that hadn't been there two months ago. His skin was tan now, not the pale white it had been while he was kept in Washington DC.

If he was attractive before, Alana thought he was striking now.

Bucky noticed the metal chain that hung around her neck: his dog tags. Something about them made him snap out of looking her over, and Bucky found his voice. "Don't I get a hug?" She didn't say a word as she closed the distance between them, wrapping her arms around his broad frame.

He practically crushed her as he hugged her fiercely, and Alana relaxed as she heard the familiar whirr of his arm. She buried her face in his neck, closing her eyes as she tightened her hold. "Я скучал по тебе." (I missed you.) She whispered, just realizing how much she had only after having her arms around him again.

"Я скучал по тебе тоже." (I missed you too.) His voice was low and husky, and Alana pulled back after that, grinning up at him.

"Come on, we're expected back in London." She turned on her heel back towards the Quinjet, Bucky falling into step beside her. Alana looked between him and Steve, "You two can fill me in on what you've been up to." Bucky nodded as Steve opened his mouth to reply, but Alana cut him off as they made their way up the ramp, "Did you get your birthday gift?"

Steve chuckled, "I did, thank you. I enjoyed it more than last years." Alana rolled her eyes.

"Last year's was a thoughtful gift that came right from the heart."

"What was last year's?" Bucky asked innocently as he pressed the button to raise the ramp up. Steve looked to Alana with his blonde eyebrows raised.

"You wanna tell him?" She waved him off as she made her way towards the cockpit.

"You can tell'em." Steve's voice drifted out of earshot as the door slide closed behind her. Alana took her seat again, pressing a different array of buttons and controls before strapping her seatbelt on and picking up the intercom. "You boys might wanna sit down for takeoff." She warned them before putting the device back down into it's place.

Alana switched the wings into helicopter mode, making it so she could take off by pulling straight up into the air. It was a bit wobbly; though still better than most and ten minutes later they were airborne and headed towards London.

She turned the radio back on, the music playing throughout the whole jet. A few seconds later, Alana turned as the door slide open, Bucky and Steve both taking seats.

"I forgot you knew how to pilot these." Steve admitted and Alana shrugged.

"No big deal, anyone can pilot a Quinjet these days." Her response was sarcastic, making both men grin.

"You seem like you're doing a lot better," Steve said sincerely, "more like your old self." He seemed to have the need to clarify his statement, and Alana leaned forward to shift the jet into autopilot. After it was set she leaned back in her chair, resting both feet on top of a clear area on the control panel.

"S.T.R.I.K.E Team: Delta is back together again. I feel like my old self." There was a beat of silence, and Alana took it to steer the conversation away from herself. "What've the Brooklyn boys been up to?"

Bucky barked out a laugh as Steve rolled his eyes, "Took out a Hydra base that was about a hundred miles outside of Lens." Bucky was the one to answer and Alana nodded.

"Nice work." She looked right into Steve's eyes as she asked her next question, "Everything went smoothly?" There was a pause.

"Yes."

"You can't lie to save your life, can you Steve?" The blonde pursed his lips together.

"Let's try it again." Alana raised her eyebrows in emphasis, and then repeated her question slowly. Bucky answered the second time.

"I got shot." It was exactly what Alana didn't want to hear and she glared at Steve, who slumped away slightly. "In the leg, I'm fine though, took the bullet out and stitched it up myself."

"I offered to help, he insisted on doing it himself." Steve cut in before Alana could berate him, she nodded instead, still not happy with the news.

"Flashbacks?" She asked.

Bucky shrugged his metal shoulder, "Two since you've been gone, one was last week. We were still clearing the base." His voice was monotone by the time he finished his sentence, and Bucky got that faraway look in his eyes that had been there when she first met him.

He was silent, and Alana unbuckled her seatbelt, walking over to him to place a hand on the side of his face. "Bucky?" She'd done this dozens of times before; there had been a time when she'd done it almost every day. Steve had never seen Alana get Bucky out of his own head before, though, and the super soldier watched, transfixed, as his friend whispered softly to Bucky in Russian.

After a few moments, Bucky's eyes cleared, and Alana smiled softly. She didn't say anything, just leaned forward and kissed his cheek quickly before standing up again and making her way back to her chair. Bucky looked at Steve wide eyed, who grinned, stifling a laugh behind his hand.

* * *

"Where're we going?" Bucky asked as he walked down the sidewalk, Alana by his side. She looked up at him and smiled, taking his breath away again.

"To a bar." She looked stunning, which hadn't been a surprise to him, since she always looked beautiful. Bucky just hadn't seen her in a dress too often. The one she wore now was a deep royal blue, stopping just above her knees.

Alana had told Bucky to be ready to go out by six when they arrived back in London. She didn't offer any more explanation than that, so he had just followed her directions. Ten minutes later and they were walking down the street together, Bucky wearing a button down shirt with an old vintage World War II jacket and slacks. He wasn't trying to be funny with the jacket; it made him feel more at home. That was something Alana had seemed to understand right away.

Bucky kept his left hand stuffed casually in his pocket to hide his metal hand from civilians.

"I don't think I can get drunk." He told her, to which Alana rolled her eyes.

"Well, we're gunna find out." She moved a little closer to his side to let a woman pass by them on the sidewalk. "Besides, if not I can have Thor bring his Asgardian liquor. That shit got _Steve _drunk."

"I met Thor a couple weeks ago."

"You did? How'd that go?" Alana was jealous for a moment; she missed the god of thunder.

Alana had been one of the agents sent to New Mexico when they first found the Mjölnir in 2011. She had been the one to convince Coulson to have Clint hold his fire against Thor as he pummeled through their strongest agents. After that incident, Alana had trailed him, had her undercover blown by Darcy Lewis, and then became fast friends with Thor, Darcy, Erik, and Jane.

"He insists on calling me Metal Arm." Bucky's face took on a disturbed expression, which made Alana laugh.

"Thor called me Warrior of Boston for the first six months I knew him. He'll probably just call you James after awhile."

"I hope so."

They settled into a comfortable silence then, the heels of Alana's shoes clicking along the concrete as they walked. She almost had to take two steps for each of Bucky's, even though she always seemed to walk with a purpose.

An hour later and Bucky was on his third drink while Alana still sipped on her second. They had chosen a darker corner to put themselves in, so Bucky wouldn't have to hide his hand the whole entire night.

She wasn't a lightweight by any means, but she did start to open up more as her glass became empty. Bucky noticed it as she smiled more at him.

"I really missed you." His words made Alana pause, her glass halfway to her lips. She set it down without taking a sip and brushed some of her dark hair away from her face. She skin was tanner than it had been before, and Bucky was able to make out a few freckles that he couldn't see before. At that moment, they disappeared underneath a blush that she tries to hide. Bucky shruged his shoulders, "I had Steve," a raise of his eyebrows, "and Thor for a bit," Bucky's dark eyebrows go down again, "but it wasn't the same as when we were in DC."

"S.H.I.E.L.D usually'll keep yah movin' around." Alana tells him softly, not wanting to speak too loudly about the organization. "I think that was the longest I've ever spent at my DC apartment."

"Where do you usually stay?" Bucky folded his arms at top of the table, his full focus on the woman across from him.

"New York." Alana makes a face, which makes Bucky grin, "I have my own apartment - it's a damn nice place too – but Tony also gave me a floor of Stark Tower."

"Steve has a floor too, doesn't he?" Bucky asks, "He mentioned it, I think."

Alana nods her head, finishes her drink, and then sets the glass on the table. "I have your tags," That makes Bucky perk up a bit more. "Wore'em every day." He smiles then and Alana can't help but stare, her own lips turning upwards. "They're at my place though."

"You can just give them back before you leave London."

""You could come pick them up tonight." She doesn't think before she speaks, a habit she had kicked in training, but usually came up again when she drank. The habit keeps going when she opens her mouth again, "You could stay the night."

Alana looks up at their waiter as he sets another drink in front of her. Bucky takes the glass in his right hand, lifting it up to read the label. "This is more than sixty percent alcohol." His eyebrows are raised up at her, and Alana smirks.

"I'm not a normal person, Bucky, it takes a lot for me to feel something." He places her glass back down. He had forgotten about that. He doesn't want them to dwell on that topic though, so he changes it back to her offer. "I can just pick up the tags in the morning."

Alana waves a hand at him, "I haven't even been using my bed for the past week, you take the bed, I'll sleep in my usual spot on the floor." Her comment made Bucky's eyebrows come together, worry lines appearing between his eyes. His shoulders sag as he lets out a breath.

"Okay." She grins, but it falters at his next words, "The bed's too soft, isn't it?"

"Of course." It's something they both understand, "The transition back is always the hardest."

* * *

"Dance with me." Alana looked up from her couch to see a smirking Bucky Barnes. They had made their way back to her apartment earlier, had taken turns using the shower and changed their clothes. Bucky's hair was still wet, the dark strands sticking up in all different directions. The t-shirt he wore was from the pile of extra clothes she always kept in all her apartments across the globe.

She never knew when Steve or Thor would drop by and need some clothes. It was a little tight over Bucky's broad frame, but Alana didn't mind. Now, as Frank Sinatra played from the record player in the corner, she eyed Bucky's outstretched metal hand.

Alana was in shorts and a tank top, her hair tossed up in a messy bun atop her head. She never thought anyone would ask her to dance at a time like this. So she found herself wordlessly taking his hand, Bucky smirking down at her as his hand found her waist, just like it had all those weeks ago.

The music played and Alana and Bucky danced together in her living room. She laughed when he spun her around, making her come closer to him again. This time, she didn't call him out on it. Songs came and went, and twenty minutes later, the two were still close together, Alana resting her head on his chest as Bucky swayed them back and forth.

"Can I ask you something?" His chest rumbled as he spoke, and Alana turned her head upwards to see that he wasn't looking down at her, but his eyes were unfocused. He took her silence as a cue to ask his question. "What do you think about love?"

"That's a pretty big question." She whispered, closing her eyes as she fought back a yawn. Her mind was still spinning from the drinks she'd had at the bar, and for years later, she would always say that's why she gave such a detailed answer. "I'm not quite sure." She paused, "My parents said they loved each other, and that destroyed our family after my father killed himself. They would fight almost every night, I don't see how love was anything good in that way. I didn't see the love they claimed was there. And then, I've had missions where men have ended up telling me they love me. They say that while I know they have families and wives. If they loved their wives, then they'd never fall in love with me, with the person I was pretending to be at the time. So I think it can lie, people don't always know when they're in love. Up until a few years ago, I agreed wholeheartedly with Natasha. Love was only something for children."

Alana was silent for a moment, collecting her thoughts again before continuing. "But then I see Pepper and Tony. How good they are for one another, how she's made him a better man. I watch Steve talk about Peggy. And I-" she cuts herself off, catching herself before she can mention Clint and Laura.

No one's allowed to know about Clint's family, no one outside of S.T.R.I.K.E Team: Delta.

"I think it can be a good thing then." Alana's mouth catches up with her brain. "It can help people grow, to heal, to become stronger."

Bucky makes an agreeing noise in the back of his throat, resting his chin atop her head. "Can I ask you a question?" Alana whispers as she feels herself relax even more.

"Of course."

"What are we doing?" She doesn't need to see the perplexed look that appears on his face to know Bucky doesn't understand. "You and me. _This_." She squeezes his hand.

"I don't know." He tells the truth to her, "If we're being honest. I don't really want to stop."


	16. Chapter 15

_Do you know what it's like to wake up in the morning and just hate every inch of yourself?_

* * *

Bucky woke up to an empty apartment.

He had fallen asleep the night before on a mat of sheets Alana had placed out for him on the floor of her bedroom. She had slept in the living room, where she insisted she had been sleeping since she got back from her last mission. He hadn't thought much of it when she had told him to only use the guest bathroom.

"Haven't had time to clean mine." She had said, motioning to the bathroom adjacent to the bedroom Bucky now stood in. He ran a hand through his hair, decided he didn't mind a dirty bathroom, and walked across the carpeted floor to push open the wooden door.

He froze, his eyes widening at the scene before him as he balanced on one foot, the other suspended in midair over the shards of glass that littered the floor. Little sharp pieces glinted from almost every surface; covering the tile floor and granite countertops. Bucky's gaze settled on the shattered mirror. What was left of it hung above the sink, though the impact outline remained.

It was easy to see where Alana had driven her fist through the mirror.

Bucky knew just how much self-hatred it took for someone to lash out with such aggression at the sight of their own reflection. He'd done the very same thing multiple times since S.H.I.E.L.D found him all those months ago. What he couldn't understand was why Alana had experienced that as well.

There was a blood stain in the sink, and by the color of it, the incident had happened days ago.

She hadn't been able to face up to what had triggered this, Bucky guessed, or she would've cleaned it up by now.

He took the liberty of cleaning up into his own hands, retreating back through her bedroom and to the kitchen, where he found cleaning supplies and a note taped to the refrigerator door.

'Woke up early. Went to finish up paperwork. -Alana'

Her handwriting wasn't the best, but he was familiar with it by now. She had often left handwritten notes in books she had given to him while helping him get reacclimatized to modern life.

He let out a breath, grabbed a rag and spray bottle, and headed back through her apartment to the bathroom.

* * *

It only took twenty minutes to clean the bathroom up and get to the blood stain mostly out of the sink. Afterwards, Bucky left to find Alana in her office. It was a quick walk through the backstreets of London to reach the S.H.I.E.L.D headquarters. He stopped briefly at the front desk, both to sign in and ask where Alana's office could be found.

The only thing was, she wasn't there. He never even reached the office, instead following a crowd of murmuring S.H.I.E.L.D employees. He had overheard 'Phoenix' as they passed him by.

The group stopped in what appeared to be an exercise facility for the base. Just a few yards away, over the heads of several other people who had gathered into a crowd, Bucky could see Alana in a corner of a boxing ring, bouncing slightly on the balls of her feet.

Her hair was pulled back into a neat ponytail, and she only wore shorts and a tank top, the light material contrasting against her tanned muscles.

Bucky's words were directed at no one in particular, "What's going on?"

A shorter man who now stood beside him spoke up, his accent distinctly Irish, "New recruit's gettin' too cocky. Alana likes to knock some sense into'em when it happens. His S.O. asked her to." Bucky's eyes drifted to the much larger man standing opposite Alana. He had a foot on her and - if Bucky guessed correctly - at least a hundred pounds. The man beside him glanced over at Bucky for the first time, his eyes widening slightly as he caught a glimpse of his metal hand underneath the long sleeved shirt. "Hey now, you're-"

"Bucky Barnes." Bucky finished his sentence for him, and the man nodded and then, to Bucky's surprise, he smiled and clapped Bucky on the shoulder.

"Pleasure to meet ya." Bucky's own lips quirked up slightly, "Name's Vincent." Bucky nodded, and then both men turned their attention to the ring. "The kid's name is Holland, only been in S.H.I.E.L.D a year. Just turned twenty two." Vincent narrated as Bucky watched the younger man dive at Alana.

She dodged him easily, making it seem effortless. "Now that was a sad excuse for an attack." She spoke evenly, not taking her eyes off him. "You've got to make your move when they least expect it-" She jabbed her left foot forward and Holland flinched forwards, expecting her kick. Alana quickly shifted all her weight to her left foot, her right cutting through the air to land hard against his ribs, the resounding smack of skin against skin echoing throughout the room as she quickly got out of the way, ducking underneath a predictable punch. "Like that, see how that worked out verses your strategy?" She teased him.

"She's getting him worked up." Bucky whispered to himself as he watched. He'd never seen Alana really put effort into a fight before. He spoke his next words to Vincent a little bit louder, "What're the rules?"

The Irish man chuckled and grinned, "Not allowed to kill your opponent." He shrugged, his red hair flopping slightly, "That's about it."

Both men watched, impressed, as Holland reached out to grab at Alana. Her hand wrapped around his forearm just before she drew her legs up, wrapped her thighs around his neck, and flipped him over onto the ground. A few agents who watched let out whistles, and Vincent leaned towards Bucky. "That's one of Natasha's moves."

"Get up." Alana bounced on the balls of her feet, looking down at the large man in front of her. She hadn't even broken a sweat yet. Green eyes glared up at her, and the man slowly pushed himself up. "You talk like you know it all, clearly you're wrong." He lunged then, and as Alana went to duck, he swept out a leg, knocking her off her feet.

She rolled as soon as she hit the ground, to the left to that she was more towards the middle of the ring, just as he reached out to grab her. Her right hip and elbow were on the ground, left leg raised up and ready to kick out at her opponent. "That was better." She conceded before quickly rolling onto her feet, leaping up as he ran at her. Her feet left the ground a split second later as she rolled her back over Holland's shoulder, her arms wrapping around his neck and locking there as she landed behind him.

The move was so fast, Bucky almost missed it when he blinked.

Holland's back was arched at an unnatural angle, his face strained as sweat started to appear across his brow. "Yah give?" Alana asked him, smirking. Holland let out a grunt, and then Alana kicked out at the back of his left knee, buckling his legs.

She crouched down in order to keep him in the headlock. "I suggest-" Her words stopped as the larger man rolled his upper body forwards, flinging her back over his shoulder.

Her back hit the mat with a resounding thud that echoed through the room. Again, she rolled, knowing never to stay in the same spot for too long. Holland was up again, and from there, it turned primarily into a fist fight.

Alana conserved her energy, knowing speed was more on her side as she dodged punch after punch that was thrown at her. She was patient, waiting for openings before going at him, landing a few kicks to his side.

Bucky observed her acrobatic style of fighting. He subconsciously studied it, found weak points, and noticed that Alana knew her own weak points as well. She covered them up. She was stronger than most, but she was still shorter.

Her extra strength didn't serve her well at all if she didn't have technique.

Strength came into play later into the fight as Holland faltered. Bucky's eyebrows rose as Alana took one step and then delivered a roundhouse kick to the side of the man's head, her heel slamming into his temple.

He fell to the mat like a bag of wet cement.

She looked down at her now fallen opponent, then Bucky watched as she turned to face someone standing near the edge of the boxing ring.

"He'll make a great field agent. Just don't let'em get cocky. Definitely stronger than most."

"After this," Agent Brown was Holland's S.O, and he now gestured to his fallen pupil, who still lay flat on the mat. "You've definitely knocked him off his high horse." She let out a chuckle as a grin pulled at the ends of her lips, "When do you ship outta here?" He asked next, leaning forwards and resting his folded arms atop the mat.

"Plane leaves in," Alana turned, glancing over the crowd to read the clock on the opposite wall, "an hour." Brown let out a low whistle as he slid his hand through his black hair, "Just gotta say goodbye to Steve and a few others, then I'm back stateside with Barton and Romanoff." She crouched down to sit on her butt, then slid under the ropes and out of the ring.

"Heard rumors they put you three back together." Alana nodded her head as she pulled her hair out of it's ponytail, letting it fall out in waves around her shoulders.

She needed to cut it soon.

"Fury's dream team is back in action."

"Alana." She looked up at the familiar deep voice, grinning up at Bucky as he pushed past another person to get through the crowd.

"I'll see you around?" Brown dismissed himself, giving Bucky an acknowledging nod.

"Yeah." Brown pushed himself up into the ring, waving over a few more agents to move Holland out of the room. "What's up?"

"I cleaned your bathroom." Her slight smile fell instantly as the memory rushed back into her mind.

"Remember how we talked about being too blunt?" Her words snapped out of her mouth; Bucky just raised his eyebrows. They starred at one another, Bucky not backing down as he crossed his arms over his chest. She stood up off the ring, no long able to look him in the eye as she was shorter again. "Let's go. I don't have much time for this."

"What're you talking about?"

She didn't even look over her shoulder at him as they made their way out the gym door, "I ship out in an hour."

"You going to say goodbye?" She gave him a glance.

"Of course."

They fell into silence then, walking in step with one another. They passed other agents as they walked down the hallway, Alana nodding to those she recognized. Bucky was surprised as people didn't throw a second look his way. They accepted him here.

Just as Bucky thought of asking where she was taking him, she stopped outside one of the doors. She paused, listening for a moment, and then pushing the door open when she heard silence on the other side.

The room was carpeted, no windows on the walls at all. Three desks were placed in the room. One was cluttered, papers scattered all over the surface. A desktop computer was still lit up as well. When Bucky looked closer, he found a nameplate.

_Clint Barton_

Alana sighed, walking around Bucky before she started to gather up the papers. "He's never been very tidy." She muttered as an explanation, reaching over with her right hand to shut down the computer. "Looks like he finished though."

She held out a handful of papers towards Bucky, "Put these on my desk?" She asked before pointing with her other hand to the desk to the right, "It's that one." He took the papers from her hand, crossing the room and placed them down, straightening them for good measure.

"What are they?" He asked.

"Debriefing sheets," She told him as she threw a manila folder into one of the drawers, "Steve is probably filling out yours for you." She shrugged, "He does stuff like that."

"You're avoiding the subject."

"I already changed the subject, actually." She flashed a small smile at him, and Bucky frowned, hopping up on the corner of her desk. "It's only my business to know why my bathroom was fucked up." She paused, then after a few beats added, "Thank you though, for cleaning it up."

"It takes a lot of anger to lash out at your own reflection."

"I've got a lot of that." She closed the last drawer to the desk, which was now neatly organized, and sat down in Clint's chair. "You've got an idea of what I've been through."

"You never seemed too angry." Her knockout blow to Holland's temple came to Bucky's mind, and he continued speaking, "You channel that into your fighting."

"Bingo. You want a cash prize for that one, Einstein?" Her voice was calm, which irked Bucky even more. He watched, lips pursed together, as she reached underneath the chair she was sitting in, her hand coming back to the desk with a gun in hand.

"What's that for?"

"Something to fiddle with. Keep my hands busy when someone's pissing me off, that way my fist don't end up in their face."

"And I'm pissing you off?" Bucky's voice rose slightly, he sat up straighter, his metal arm whirring as he flexed his hand in and out of a fist.

"A bit."

"I'm just trying to help." Bucky snapped back, standing up onto his feet, "Before you appreciated it when I helped you."

"Now I don't want your help." She picked up the gun in her hand, running her fingers over the barrel.

"Did I say something offensive to you?" Bucky ran his hands through his hair as he started to pace, "Because I don't see what's changed between now and before."

Alana knew what had changed. She knew and the night before had only confirmed those thoughts. She wouldn't let herself go there, he'd only get hurt. She wasn't allowed to care so much for someone.

Alana wouldn't do that again.

But she couldn't tell him, so instead she hopped off the desk, tucked the gun into the waistband of her pants, and headed for the door. "Where're you going?" Bucky's voice was loud and it made Alana turn around as she retorted.

"To pick daisies."

"Alana come-"

"I swear to God if you fuckin' tell me to come back I will shove my fist so far up your ass!" Alana was shouting by the end, her hands in fists by her side as she wheeled back around, stalking closer to Bucky, who stood up straighter.

"You're acting like a child!"

"Was that supposed to hurt my feelings?" They were yelling at one another, standing only a few feet apart when the door to the office opened.

Steve rushed in, having heard their fighting from down the hall.

No other agents would go inside. "Alright, 'Lana, let's calm down." Steve put a hand on her shoulder, the other resting on her hip to hold the gun down, just in case she went for it. "Bucky, sit down."

"We're just chatting, Steve." Alana said in a sickly sweet voice.

"Yeah, no. You've got a jet to catch. In-" The blonde glanced at the clock in the room, "Thirty minutes."

"Alana I don't think-"

She cut Bucky off violently before he could finish his sentence, "I don't give a rat's ass what you think!"

"All right, little lady. We're done here." Steve wrapped both his arms around her waist in one quick movement before scooping her off her feet.

"Steven Grant Rogers! Put me down!"

"A little help, Clint!"

"Alana, stop." She listened to Clint, instantly ceasing her struggling and glaring at Bucky as Steve carried her out the room. The archer turned his attention to Bucky then, crossing his arms over his chest. "What happened?"

"I don't know." Bucky told the truth, "I offered to listen. Her bathroom was," He paused, "There was glass from the mirror everywhere."

Clint Barton nodded, the ends of his mouth pulling down into a slight frown. "Happens after a bad nightmare. And her yelling? She cares about you, that's why she's trying to distance herself."

"What?" Bucky asked, dumbfounded.

"A lot of people close to Alana have ended up dead. She just doesn't want you to be one of those."

"She didn't kill them herself though."

"You wanna try explaining that to her?" Clint challenged, "She thinks if there is no relationship, then they won't get hurt. She did this with Steve for a bit too. She'll stop soon enough."

"Thanks." Clint nodded, turning on his heel and left the room, following the way that Steve had taken his comrade.

Bucky sat alone in the office for a long time, watching the clock and counting down the minutes until STRIKE Team: Delta was scheduled to leave. He thought about going after her, apologizing for pushing the subject.

But he wasn't sorry for that. And Bucky wasn't going to lie to her.

So instead he told himself that she'd get over it. Alana always put things behind her, and he was sure she'd do the same with their fight. He hoped she would, at least.

Steve found him still in the office later that day, when he went to lock it up. Bucky sat behind Alana's desk, three knives out in front of him on the desk.

"They hide a lot of weapons in here." Steve commented, leaning against the doorway. Bucky looked up at him with raised eyebrows, but nodded his head. "Five guns, seventeen knives, six grenades and then a bow for Clint."

"I found the arrows." Bucky commented.

"The bow's behind the painting over Barton's desk." Steve entered the room fully then, closing the door behind him. "You okay?"

"Yeah." Bucky wasn't very convincing.

"You know," Steve started, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned on the corner of Natasha's desk, facing his best friend, "I took Alana out on a date once."

Bucky didn't know how he felt about that piece of information. "How was that?"

"Was nice. I kept thinking of what you'd say if you were there."

"I wouldn't believe you actually got a date by yourself." Both men chuckled, Steve rubbing the back of his neck with one hand.

"Scared to death when I asked her."

"But there wasn't a second date?" Bucky wondered aloud, and Steve shook his head.

"She's like a little sister. We have fun together but," He paused, thinking of how to word what he wanted to say, "I'd never be enough for her, not in that way. She says I'm too good." He shrugged, Bucky staring at him from across the room, "We went through a period where we just fought, but she'll get over it. Clint said he tried explaining it to you."

Bucky nodded his head slowly, "He did."

"Don't let her push you away, Buck. Once you're her friend, you've got a friend for life."

Bucky didn't hear from Alana later that day, or the next day, or the next day. He and Steve stayed in London, and every day Steve would ask if Bucky had heard anything from her. Bucky would just shake his head and Steve would frown.

When Bucky wasn't looking Steve would shoot Alana the same text message.

_'__Talk to him' _

It wasn't until a week after their fight that Bucky's phone lit up, Alana's name across the screen. It was two in the morning her time, and the message was short.

_'__I'm sorry'_

* * *

**Hurray for new chapters! I hope you all liked this one! I'm not sure when I can update again, as I move off to college tomorrow but hopefully it'll be soon! Please tell me what you think I love the reviews!**


	17. Chapter 16

**Here's a shorter, just fun filler chapter. More action will be coming soon, I promise! Let me know what you think reviews are my favorite!**

* * *

One month later - Late November

* * *

"What about Christmas? Tony's invited us over for Christmas."

Alana held in a sigh, wishing for the hundredth time she could rip the microphone out of her ear. But she couldn't, because Clint had eyes where she couldn't see.

He could at least shut up for five seconds.

"I think you're pissing off Alana." Natasha's smooth voice sounded in her ear a moment later, and a grin spread across the younger assassin's face.

"The only thing I'm worried about regarding 'Lana right now is how well she fits in down there." Alana bit her lip, continuing to make her way through the crowded streets of Calcutta. She kept her pace slow - as to not draw any attention to herself. The last thing she wanted was to be noticed.

A man bumped her shoulder as he passed her by, "That's why she's down there." Natasha reminded Clint. "Alana," Alana perked up slightly as she was spoken to directly, "Watch the man to your eleven o'clock. Thirty yards away and closing."

Alana's hand diverted from its natural path past her body to sweep quickly over the pistol she had hidden on her person. The weapon check was practically unnoticeable. She glanced to her left, eyes sweeping over every face in the swarm of people to try and find who Natasha was warning her about.

"Orange button down, cuffs rolled up to his elbows. Ten yards and closing." She spotted him with the help of description, recognizing his face from the photographs she had been shown two days prior.

"Don't make a scene." Clint warned, his voice changed from the light banter to strict orders. His tone left no room for argument, even though she'd heard the advice a thousand times, a simple reminder could mean the difference between life and death.

It was a lesson Clint and Natasha had branded onto Alana's brain.

Alana adjusted the sari she wore as she turned down an alleyway, her other hand – hidden by the fabric of her garments – found the hilt of the knife she had brought.

"Any alley but that one I would've been able to cover you."

"I can see her, Clint." Natasha's voice was focused, her words coming out softly. Alana guessed she had a shot lined up on the man who was following her. "Target's pursuing."

Alana kept walking until she was almost to the end of the alley, a stone wall rising up before her. If she did this right, Natasha wouldn't need to take the shot, and the mission would be done quickly and quietly.

"You are American." She turned around as she was spoken to, the man's primary language clearly not being English as she deciphered his words.

"Yes." Alana was calm, her hands hanging by her sides. "I'm trying to find a friend of mine, but-" She motioned around herself with one hand, the other keeping a grip on the knife. She let out a forced laugh, "I seem to be lost."

He came towards her, shrugging his shoulders, "This is no place to be lost." He shook his head slowly, "Not safe."

"Wait." Natasha's voice was clear in her ear. "Let him get closer, he can't tell you're armed." Alana already knew that. She was in the shadows, he couldn't see her hand.

"Could you help me?" Alana asked, painting a hopeful expression onto her face. The tall man took another step towards her, his hand outstretched.

"Of course." His smile made her skin crawl, and as soon as Alana reached out towards his hand, he grabbed her by the wrist, his other hand shooting to his side.

Alana knew he was armed, but she already had her knife. She adjusted her grip on it quickly before driving it forwards and up. For a moment, all she could hear was the sound of ripping flesh as her blade dug through him, slicing him up the chest.

She drove it into his heart and watched, stiffened as he seized her chin, and was forced to look him in the eyes.

"You will die." He growled it out like it was a promise as she watched the light leave his eyes, his grip loosening on her jaw.

Alana let his body fall to the ground, slipping her knife back to her side quickly as she raised her other hand to her ear.

"He's dead." She reported, her voice monotone. "Status update?"

"Seems like there was backup." Alana let a groan slip past her lips at Natasha's words. A moment later, she heard a gunshot ring out through the air. "Alana, run."

"So can we go to Stark's?"

"Shut up and shoot, Clint." Alana strode quickly through the crowd as she reached the end of the alleyway. She needed to disappear.

Around her, civilians rushed by, fleeing from where they heard the shots ring out. As much as Alana wanted to help Clint and Natasha take out thugs, their mission was done. This was just backup to make sure Alana didn't get shot.

A large, burly man shoved past her, and Alana let him knock her to the ground, making herself appear weaker. She grit her teeth together as skin was scraped away from her forearm.

Pushing herself back up to her feet, Alana made her way to her predetermined escape route. Slipping inside a store and out through their back door. Five blocks later and Alana saw the familiar figure of Natasha Romanoff leaned up against a black sedan.

The redhead smirked at Alana, glancing down at her watch, "You know how slow you're getting?"

Alana chuckled and grinned, "I beat Clint." She pointed out as she slid into the passenger seat, Natasha taking the wheel. Alana put her hand up to her ear, pressing on the microphone, "Barton, where are you?"

"I'm coming!" Was his breathy response a moment later, a pause and then, "Please don't ditch me again."

"Two minutes." Natasha told him as she put the car into drive.

He came running around the corner a moment later, his bow in hand.

"I hope he trips." Alana muttered, getting a grin out of Natasha.

"Be nice to him." Alana scoffed as Clint opened the back door and jumped in the car. They were off a second later, speeding through the streets and weaving through crowds.

"So," Clint started after a few minutes of silence, "You ladies didn't answer my Christmas question."

* * *

Early December – Berlin, Germany

* * *

'_Everyone's going to be there'_

Sometimes, Tommy was a pain in the ass. Alana glared down at the text message from her older brother. She couldn't really be mad at him though, he just wanted her home for Christmas.

For Alana, planning holidays was never too much of a big deal. Usually she spent it with Clint, Laura, and their kids. Three years ago she'd spent it with Steve, and the year after that Tony had made them all go to the tower. Which he was trying to do again this year.

Clint wanted to go, having promised his wife that he would be home by Christmas morning and there a few weeks earlier to pick out and decorate a tree.

The latter was why Alana had done this mission solo.

Now, Tommy was begging her to spend Christmas with her family in Kansas.

Alana couldn't remember the last time she'd been home – truly home – for any holiday.

'_I miss you' _Alana face palmed, hating her brother even more. How could she say no?

'_Mother will be there?' _Alana asked, praying he would say no. All she got was a repeat message.

'_Everyone will be there' _

His next text came in a few seconds later, _'Just stay for three days. You could see your old friends. Johnny and Chandler will be there.' _She grinned slightly at the thought of her two cousins she hadn't seen in years.

'_Can I bring a friend?' _She asked. It was one way she thought she might be able to make the trip bearable.

'_You have strange friends' _

'_Say yes and I might just show up' _Alana flipped her phone closed then, lifting up her eyes to look around the crowded bar.

Her mission was complete, and for once she wasn't waiting for a target to show up at a bar.

Her phone vibrated in the pocket of her jeans and she fished it back out, opening it up. A grin tugged at her lips as Tommy agreed. She switched the phone on silent, and stuffed it back in her pocket.

She wondered, fleetingly, if he was going to show up. A moment later, her silent question was answered when she felt a cool hand on her shoulder through the fabric of her blouse.

"I'm looking for a beautiful dame with long hair, have you seen her anywhere?"

Her eyes looked back over her shoulder, a smile playing on her lips as her gaze met Bucky's.

His hair was cut short again and his stupid half smirk was plastered on his face. It made Alana's stomach flip as she answered his question. "Nope." She stood up then as he started to round the booth, wrapping her arms around his broad frame in a hug. Bucky returned the gesture, both of them holding onto the other for just a little bit longer than normal before Alana finally took a step back, taking her seat once again.

"You're hair looks nice." Bucky complimented her latest appearance change and then added, "You look beautiful." The comment made her blush, and Bucky's smirk widened.

"Needs to change every few months while I'm in the field." She explained, "It'd been long for almost a year."

They lapsed into silence for a few moments, just looking each other over. Alana cleared her throat before speaking up. "How's everything been goin'?"

"They've been-" He paused to think, making a face that brought a grin to Alana's lips, "Really good. Only nightmares, no flashbacks since I last saw you." Her grin grew, and for the fourth time in his life, Bucky saw Alana really smile.

"That's fuckin' awesome." It was his turn to smile then, "And the missions? The fighting?"

"Good. Steve says I should listen to his orders more." Bucky rolled his eyes.

"Let me guess," Alana cleared her throat, then spoke with a deeper voice. "'These are orders, they help us work together, that's what makes us an army, not just a bunch'a guys goin' around shooting guns.'" He was laughing by the time she finished and Alana smirked, "That's my Steve impression."

"Pretty damn good." A waiter came up to them then, briefly pausing their conversation as Bucky ordered himself a drink. Once the waiter left, he turned back to Alana. "How've you been?"

"Good. Completed three missions. Finished up the third yesterday and S.H.I.E.L.D said they'd give me two free days in Berlin. Not my favorite city, but I'll take it."

"What's your favorite?" Bucky leaned forward, his forearms crossed atop the table as he listened.

"Boston. No offense to Brooklyn, I love it there too."

"None taken. I've never been to Boston, I, what?" Alana's eyes were wide, her mouth hanging open slightly.

"You've _never _been to Boston?"

"Not that I can recall."

"Wow. That's-" She took a breath, "That's wicked sad."

"If I could find a pretty dame to go with, maybe I'd check it out."

"I don't know where any of those are, but I'd take you."

Bucky's smirk graced his lips again, making Alana's heart speed up, "It's a date."

* * *

"You know what?" Alana asked, looking up at Bucky as they walked together back towards where she was staying. His arm was draped around her shoulders, keeping the jacket he had put there in place.

"Hm?" He hummed, a skip in his step as they went along the sidewalk.

"Come home with me." He looked down at her quickly, his eyebrows drawn together, "For Christmas."

"Like to your apartment?"

"To Kansas."

"To Kansas?" He repeated slowly, not sure if he had heard her correctly. "You're going there for Christmas?"

She nodded her head once before stepping closer to his side, Bucky adjusted his arm accordingly as she spoke, "Tommy's been begging me to go. He said I could bring a friend."

A friend.

The label bounced off the walls of Bucky's mind. It taunted him, teasing as it kept repeating. He was her friend. He wanted more than that, but he wasn't. He was a friend. Nothing more.

Alana mistook his silence for a quiet, polite refusal. She quickly started backtracking, "If you have plans already, then it's fine, I get-"

"I'd love to go." He cut her off, squeezing her shoulders and forcing his smirk onto his lips as she looked up at him. The look in her eyes made accepting the offer worth it right then and there. Alana's eyes held a light that Bucky hadn't seen before, it made her look younger, more innocent.

In one swift motion she lifted up onto her toes, pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek, her full lips brushing along the stubble that covered his jawline.

* * *

**Let me know what you think! **


	18. Chapter 17

_"Hardships often prepare ordinary people for extraordinary things." C.S. Lewis_

* * *

"_I have to go." Alana stood tall, her shoulders held back and her head held high. Her long dark blonde hair was pulled away from her face into a neat ponytail. She was the epitome of business, standing there in her navy pencil skirt and white blouse. A professional that any parent would be proud of._

_Any parent except for Alana's mother. _

_Not that Alana truly cared, she had Clint and Natasha now. _

"_You're leaving?!" Paula Mercer's voice was sharp and biting. After years of her berating, Alana no longer flinched at the tone. _

"_Yes, ma'am." Alana took a deep breath as her mother crossed the open room, her heels clicking against the tile floor. Paula was slightly taller than her daughter, and so she glared down at her. _

"_In the middle of the night? Brewster, do you understand how rude that is?" Alana tensed at the use of her first name, it was something only her mother called her by. _

"_It's for work, mother," She explained carefully, keeping her voice steady, "I can't say no." _

"_Oh, of course," Her mother rolled her eyes, "Your job that you won't tell us about, I-"_

"_It's important, I-" Alana was cut off as her mother backhanded her across the face. It didn't hurt so much anymore, not after all her training, but her cheek still stung from the impact._

"_Do not interrupt me." _

"Ready?" Bucky's baritone voice broke Alana out of the memory. She looked over at him, forcing a small grin onto her face.

"What?" She asked, a look of concern washed over Bucky's features.

"They said we're landing in ten minutes." He informed her, "Alana, are you okay?" He rested his metal hand atop hers. She glanced down at the cool contact, shrugging her shoulders once before answering.

"I'm fine, Bucky." He gave her a look of disbelief, "Really," She defended herself, "I'm fine. You have your gloves?" She redirected the conversation.

He nodded, his lips pursed together. He didn't like it when she blew him off, always insisting that she was fine. That she was okay. Bucky could see she was worried, something was pressing her at least, and he wished she trusted him enough to tell him.

"What about you?" she asked, glancing out the window of the jet and then to him.

He was nervous, he was excited, and he was scared that he'd have an episode. Bucky didn't tell her that though, choosing to just echo her own words back to her, "I'm fine."

If she saw through his lie, she chose to keep quiet. Alana drummed her fingers along the armrest, fishing for something to talk about in order to fill the silence. "We'll get to the house before midnight," She informed him, staring straight ahead at the seatback in front of her.

They were on a private S.H.I.E.L.D jet, and thus were the only passengers on the plane, besides the pilot and co-pilot.

"There's a diner about thirty minutes out, twenty-four-seven service. We can get dinner there." Alana knew there'd be food at the house, there always was. But she didn't want her mother to have an excuse to sit down and bombard either of them with questions as soon as they walked through the door.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Bucky nod his head. He had shaved that morning, and gotten a haircut two days earlier. He looked like the Bucky Barnes elementary school students saw in their history textbooks.

Though now he wore civilian clothes – twenty-first century clothes – and, of course, his left arm was cybernetic. The arm was hidden underneath a gray sweater, the sleeves of which he'd rolled up to his elbows. Alana made a mental note to make sure he rolled them down before getting off the jet.

"Your brother already there?" Bucky's deep, rough voice was a comfort, and Alana nodded curtly.

"Tommy, Chandler, Johnny, Hanna, and Kailee have been there since Wednesday."

"That's a lotta people for one house." He commented, Alana let out a breathy chuckle.

"It's not a house, it's a mansion. Sleeps twenty people, easily."

"Thought you said your family was poor."

"Before I joined S.H.I.E.L.D, Agent Coulson made sure I could get my family off my back. Buying the place for'em did the trick."

Agent Coulson.

It was a name Bucky had heard mentioned throughout the organization. Steve and Thor mentioned the man quite a bit, as did other agents Bucky had interacted with in the past several months. But Alana had only mentioned him twice before, that moment being the third. Just like the previous occasions, she immediately seemed to shrink back into herself, the light in her eyes fading just a little as the corners of her mouth fell downwards.

She missed him.

Phil Coulson had been a father figure to her. Sure, she was extremely close to Clint, but the archer was more like a brother than anything else. Coulson had seen her at her worst, or what her worst had been before her imprisonment in Batswana, and helped her get through it all.

No matter how many times he insisted she call him Phil, she always stuck with Coulson. "You're my boss." She'd remind him, her face screwing together as she smirked.

"I like to consider us friends, Alana." He would tell her, and then she'd grin.

"I'll keep with Coulson, in case you decide I'm a shitty friend someday."

His death had hit her hard, but it didn't really sink in until after the Battle of New York came to a complete close. That wasn't until weeks after the Chitari invasion. The cleanup, the interviews, the hundreds of debriefings she had had to attend kept her mind occupied.

Alana hadn't mourned his death until she was sitting alone in her apartment with Natasha, the redheaded assassin cooking dinner for them both. The sudden realization that he was actually gone had hit her like a freight train.

One moment Natasha was chopping vegetables, and the next she was by Alana's side as the younger assassin shook, silent tears streaming down her cheeks.

The jet jerked as it landed on the runway, and Alana's body is pressed into her seat. She looked out the window, the Kansas landscape almost unfamiliar to her after being away for so long.

She could feel Bucky's eyes on her, boring holes into the back of her head, but Alana continued to stare out the window. The sun was setting, the sky appearing to be on fire as bright hues of red, orange, and yellow reflected off the snow.

As the jet came to a stop, she unbuckled her seatbelt, sending a glance to Bucky's arms. He caught her eye and made a face, "I won't forget." He said as he rolled the sleeves down, tugging them over his wrists.

His arm hummed softly as it moved.

There was a car ready for them on the runway, and it only took them a few minutes to transfer what little luggage they had from the plane into the two door Honda Accord. Bucky slipped into the passenger seat as Alana turned the ignition key, the engine coming to life.

She unrolled her window, sending a quick wave of thanks to the agent who had piloted the jet before turning the car around and heading towards the open road.

Beside her, Bucky remained silent. He had never been to Kansas before, not even back in the forties. As far as he could see the land was substantially flat, only a few rolling hills rose in the distance.

Alana leaned forwards, turning on the radio before returning her hand to the steering wheel. Christmas music filled the air around them, the familiar, lively tune bringing a grin to Bucky's lips.

The last Christmas he remembered was from before his fall into the ravine. Way back in 1945 when the Howling Commandos were fighting to take down Hydra. If he remembered correctly, they'd spent the holiday in Paris at a bar. Bucky had given Steve a new notebook for his sketches and in return Steve had given Bucky a Captain America comic book.

The bastard had thought he was a riot.

"Have you ever seen _Elf_?" Alana's sudden question surprised him, and Bucky glanced over at her to find her eyes still glued to the road. He remained quiet, trying to figure out what she was talking about. Alana let out a chuckle, "Take that as a 'no'." She looked at him briefly to grin, "We'll watch it. Unless the tradition has changed, we usually watch it with the little kids every year."

"What's it about?"

"An elf." She shrugged, "Not really an elf, but a human who was raised by elves. You'll see, it's a classic." She grinned as she spoke, different scenes from the film running through her mind, "Clint likes to quote it a lot. And," She glanced over at Bucky, "Don't tell anyone, but Tony secretly likes it too."

"He doesn't want anyone to know that?"

"God, no." She scoffed, waving a hand in the air, "He thinks it'd ruin his whole aura if the public knew he liked a damn children's' movie." Bucky tore his eyes away from watching her to look out the window again, the sun starting to disappear below the horizon. "Have you met Stark yet?"

"Stark? No." Bucky was looking forward to it, though, "I've heard plenty about him though."

"Mm." She hummed in understanding, "Well, you got along with Howard."

"Tony doesn't sound very much like Howard."

"He's not, but he's gettin' better. Less egotistical than he was four years ago."

* * *

"This is it." Bucky picked his head up from where it rested against the window, his eyes widening as he took in the large, brick building they were pulling up to. Several white pillars supported the front of the home – it reminded Bucky of the White House – surrounded by snow-covered shrubs and bushes.

Electric candles decorated each windowsill, behind each the curtains were already drawn closed for the night. A little ways detached from the mansion was another building, which Bucky assumed to be the garage as Alana steered the car towards it, turning away from the home as she followed the plowed driveway.

He glanced back towards the house, catching a glimpse of what appeared to be a sitting room. It was the only room whose windows weren't closed off, and – looking inside – Bucky could see a Christmas tree, already decorated with ornaments and lights.

The view was only there for a moment before they were pulling around the side of the house and it was out of sight. "Tommy's probably still up." Alana informed him as she shifted the Honda into park, popping the trunk open and turning off the ignition. She paused before getting out, her hand covering Bucky's metal one. "Я действительно рад, что вы пришли , Джеймс." (I'm really glad you came, James.)

Her eyes softened as she spoke in Russian to him, and he nodded, smiling softly at her. It wasn't very often that either of them used the language in conversation, but it always reminded him of how she first helped him find his place in this new world again. How she was still helping him.

"Poydem." (Let's go.)

By the time Alana got to the trunk, Bucky already had their bags out. They each had only packed one, having learned how to efficiently pack clothes years ago. When she reached out for her duffle, Bucky smirked, shaking his head as he moved it so it was just out of her reach. "I'll carry it." He insisted, making her roll her eyes at him.

Bucky followed her up the walkway to a door on the side of the house. He again took note of her simple outfit. Denim jeans, a long-sleeved shirt, and her black leather jacket. Even for a trip home, she looked like a secret agent.

The front door, apparently, was unlocked, as Alana opened it easily and let herself inside, Bucky following suit. He surveyed the home as Alana took off her combat boots, placing them beside a pair of toddler-sized sneakers.

They were in a mud room; shoe racks and coat hangers lined the walls. He could tell from where he stood that the house had an open floor plan more so than separated rooms. Bucky put down the bags, untying his shoes and placing them beside Alana's.

"Well, if it isn't little Brewster Mercer!" Bucky looked up to see a tall, slim blonde man walking towards the mud room. "The ghost story of the family." The man smirked.

"You're still annoying as hell, aren't you, Chandler?" The short-haired agent wrapped her arms around her cousin in a tight embrace, the man chuckling as he squeezed her back. It lasted only a moment before they pulled apart.

"Lilia and Nick both begged to stay up to see you. Trish threatened them and said Santa wouldn't come." Chandler's eyes lit up as he spoke about his kids. Alana smiled as well, she hadn't seen the kids in over two years. Chandler's brown eyes flitted over Alana's shoulder and landed on Bucky, "Hey, man, you the boyfriend?"

"He's a friend." Alana cut in before Bucky could open his mouth, and he put a grin on his face as he extended his hand to Alana's cousin.

"I'm James," He introduced himself as he shook Chandler's hand, using his real first name to reduce the chances any of Alana's family figuring out who he really was. Bucky and Alana had talked about it a few days ago, both agreeing it would be better if he went by James instead of Bucky.

Bucky wasn't a very popular name nowadays.

"Alana and I work together." He explained, her cousin nodding his head once.

"Pleasure to meet yah." Chandler grinned then, a sly expression covering his face, "If you wanna piss'er off real fast, call'er Brewster."

"I'll kick yer ass if you don't stop." Alana threatened, mock punching the older man in the ribs. He just laughed at her, an arm going around her shoulders.

"You missed me and you know it." She ducked out from under his arm, throwing Bucky an apologetic look.

"Sorry, he's an asshole."

"If you two don't shut up you'll wake up the kids." A new voice carried over from the other side of the house, and Bucky looked over in time to see a dark haired man come around the corner. He held a coffee mug in his hand, but paused to place it down on a side table.

Given their similar facial structures and eyes, Bucky knew it was Tommy right away. "Or worse," Chandler whispered seriously, "We could wake up Paula."

"Another key reason to shut up," Tommy half-teased before bringing his sister in for a hug.

He was taller than her by at least a foot, and his shoulders were broader. Alana wrapped her arms around his middle, her chin resting on his shoulder briefly. "I wasn't sure you'd actually show up." He whispered in her ear.

Alana didn't reply until they separated, "I brought one of my weird friends." She smirked, looking over at Bucky, who had left the bags on the ground now. "Tommy, this is James. James, this is my brother, Tommy."

Tommy glanced between the two, his mind going back to the last time he saw his sister.

_This _was the James she told him about. Tommy had thought he'd seen his picture somewhere. He offered his hand, his eyes darting down to take not of the gloves James wore when the older man took his hand firmly. "Nice to meet yah." Tommy offered a soft smile, and Bucky nodded.

"You too, good to put a name to a face." Tommy sent Alana an aggravated look.

"You don't show him pictures of me?"

"I only share nice pictures with people." She threw back, Chandler letting out a bark of a laugh. Tommy glared and Alana shrugged, "We're gunna head on upstairs. You didn't change my room, right?"

* * *

Alana's room wasn't what Bucky expected it to be.

There weren't any pictures on the walls, or posters like she had in her other homes Bucky had been to before. This room was plain and simple; hardwood floors and beige walls, two large windows took up one side from floor to ceiling. Dark green curtains were pulled closed, blocking the view outside.

The bedroom itself was huge, almost the size of the living room of Alana's DC apartment. The king sized bed only took up some of the space. There was a grey cushioned couch against one wall.

Alana motioned towards a door to their left, "That's the bathroom." She told him, then pointed to another, sliding door a few feet away, "And that's the closet." Bucky set down their bags, pulling off his gloves and setting them down on a nearby end table. He flexed his left hand, the mechanics whirring at the motion.

Alana stifled a yawn, stretching her arms above her head, the joints letting loose two loud pops that made Bucky cringe. "I'll take the couch," She held up a hand as Bucky opened his mouth to protest, "It pulls out into a bed."

"Then I'll take it." He insisted, smirking as she yawned again, "You're about to fall asleep standing up."

She wanted to argue, but he was right. Alana had stayed up the whole night before finishing up required paperwork. She'd been too nervous to sleep on the jet, and now the fatigue hit her like a ton of bricks.

She stood in the middle of the room for a moment and Bucky closed the door. He made his way over to her, placing his flesh hand on her cheek, tipping her face upwards, "Go get ready for bed," He told her softly, "I'll make the bed up for you."

"The couch?" She asked, starring into his eyes. Bucky nodded and then, in a surge of confidence, pressed a quick kiss to her forehead. It made a lazy grin pass over her lips, and a second later she turned away, disappearing into the closet.

By the time she was changed, wearing only shorts and a tank top, Bucky had the pull out set up for her. She was still up when he went to take his turn in the bathroom. He was finished in only a few minutes, and when he came out, she was passed out on the pull out.

He watched her for a few moments before going around the room and turning off the main lights, leaving only a side lamp on. Bucky made his way over to Alana, pulling the comforter over her more before running a hand down her arm softly as he stood up.

Bucky thought back to the time they shared a bed at S.H.I.E.L.D in DC, fleetingly wishing they could do the same now. He had slept so well that night.

But that wouldn't be right, he told himself, a part of him – the old fashioned part – told him that it wasn't proper. Especially in her family home.

* * *

**Let me know what you thought! Reviews are always welcome and they get faster updates!**


	19. Chapter 18

**Thanks so much for all the reviews/favorites/follows! Sorry to those who thought last chapter was a bit boring, it was more of a filler. I promise a lot more action is starting next chapter, the big plot will be introduced in the chapter after next and I'm really excited about that! I'm hoping to update faster, but I am in college so that takes up a lot of time. Hope you all like this chapter!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Captain America or anything Marvel or Bucky, which is just the sad truth.**

* * *

_The best way to not get your heart broken is to pretend you don't have one._

* * *

Bucky was still asleep when Alana slipped out of her bedroom the following morning. Her bare feet padded softly across the hardwood as she made her way down the hall and to the stairs. She felt strange, not having a schedule to follow for the day. To not have a meeting to attend, or paperwork to finish, or a target to take out.

It was strange having time off while she was healthy.

The stairs creaked slightly as she descended them, her hand gliding over the polished banister. Alana heard voices coming from the direction of the kitchen, and turned that way once she reached the bottom, only pausing briefly to look over the pictures on the walls.

Some she hadn't seen before, but others were familiar.

Her and Tommy as kids, a picture of her cousins all together, the family's old dog. There weren't any current pictures of Alana on the walls, and she didn't mind that.

Alana tensed when she heard her mother's voice. She let out a breath, rolled back her shoulders, and made her way into the kitchen.

"ALANA!" Two seconds later a little ball of flesh had attached itself to her, Alana huffed, her lips pulling upwards as little arms wound around her torso.

She turned her attention to the eight year old, ignoring the fact that all conversation had ceased.

She could feel her mother's stare.

Alana ruffled the mop of curly brown hair before her, winking when the boy looked up at her, his eyes gleaming. "Woah!" Alana took a step backwards, looking at the boy, "You grew like, what? Ten inches!?" The eight-year old beamed at her.

"Daddy says I'm going to be taller than him!" Alana looked up to glance at Chandler, who sat at the kitchen island. Her cousin was smirking.

"I said maybe taller, Nick." Chandler shot back with a shake of his head. Beside him sat Johnny, Chandler's younger brother. When Alana met his gaze, Johnny simply nodded his head in acknowledgement, his bronze hair falling over his eyes slightly. He knew to wait to greet her.

Paula always got to speak next, the only reason she had not spoken first was because Nick attached himself to Alana. Alana turned her attention back to the little boy, who tugged on the hem of her shirt.

"I'll be taller." The boy stated matter-o-factly. Alana let out a breathy laugh.

"Alright, then, easy killer." She winked at Nick, "Finish your breakfast." She told him, nodding towards the bowl of cereal he had clearly been eating.

Alana stood up taller as he scurried back up onto his chair, and faced her mother. "Good morning, mother."

Paula Mercer sat with her hands folded together atop the island's granite countertop. Her hair and makeup was already done for the day as well, her clothes perfectly ironed so that there wasn't one crease. She raised one sculpted eyebrow at her daughter, her eyes scrutinizing as she looked her over.

Her lips set into a thin line and Alana knew that she hadn't passed her mother's morning approval. But really, Alana didn't care.

"Good morning, Brewster." Paula's voice was cool and calculated, she didn't wait for her daughter to respond before delving her questions, "Thomas said you came with a friend."

Alana nodded her head, "Yes, ma'am. He's still asleep."

"You know one another from where?"

"We met in DC." Alana knew not to mention work; it would only bring about her mother's rant on how she didn't know what her daughter's occupation.

Paula nodded her head, "Very well." She didn't seem to care to find out more.

Making her way more into the kitchen, Alana sent a smile to Johnny, "Hey." Her cousin stood up from his chair, closing the distance between them and pulled her in for a hug.

"Hey, yourself." He whispered before letting her go. Johnny had always been the quieter of the two brothers, but that wasn't hard to accomplish when Chandler – who never seemed to shut up – was who he was being compared to.

"Tommy said Kailee's here to." Alana said, referring to Johnny's wife of six years. He nodded, brushing his hair away from his face.

"She's helping Hanna with Lilia."

"How come you're not helpin'er?" Alana looked to Chandler accusingly, who put in hands up in defense.

"I got this one ready." He defended himself, poking his son in the shoulder.

"Likely excuse." Alana teased, making her way around the island as she continued speaking, "Kailee finished graduate school, didn't she?"

Johnny nodded, a smile spreading across his face, "Two years ago."

"You would've known if you weren't gone all the time." Alana's mother spoke up from her seat. Alana paused, her hand halfway up to reach for a plate. She let out a slow breath, grabbed her plate, and then turned to the stovetop.

"I'm here now, mother." She pointed out, dishing scrambled eggs onto her plate.

Alana remembered receiving the announcement, but the ceremony had been scheduled the same day that she left for a mission in Japan. She had gone with Steve and they'd taken out a growing terrorist cell on one of the more remote islands.

If she remembered correctly, Johnny and Chandler's father – Alana's aunt – had passed away just two years prior, around the time of the Battle of New York.

It was after her passing that the cousins spent more time together, and Chandler and Johnny became aware of how cruel Paula Mercer really was. They had noticed how she spoke to her children, but hadn't gotten the nerve to ask the extent of the situation until after their mother's passing.

"You must be James." Johnny's voice made Alana turn around quickly, her eyes landing on Bucky, who stood in the doorway, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his sweatpants. She made her way towards him, putting down her plate on the island as she passed by, and gave him what she hoped was a reassuring smile. Bucky nodded his head.

"That's right, sorry I don't know your name."

"Johnny," Her cousin told Bucky while he raised his hand slightly.

"He's Chandler's younger brother," Alana put in. Bucky looked over at her, his eyes smiling as his lips curved upwards at the sight of her. Her hair was still messy and her clothes were wrinkled since she hadn't changed yet, but he thought she was beautiful. "And this," Bucky's lips lowered at Alana's change of tone. Her voice became more detached, lost it's vibrancy and life in a millisecond, "is my mother." Bucky looked over to see a middle-aged woman sitting on a stool behind the kitchen island.

Her dark blonde hair was pulled back into a tight bun, her blouse ironed with the sleeves perfectly rolled halfway up her forearms.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, ma'am." Bucky said politely, bowing his head slightly like he had been taught to do back in the forties.

"I'd say the same, but my daughter doesn't speak to me very much, so I've never heard of you before." He wasn't sure how hearing of each other had anything to do with their introduction to one another.

"Alana's a very close friend of mine, she's really helped me a lot."

"Really?" Alana's mother seemed surprised, her eyebrows rising up higher on her forehead. Out of the corner of his eye, Bucky saw Chandler's jaw set, his mouth setting into a thin line.

He knew what was coming next. He covered Nick's ears just before Paula opened her mouth again to retort, "I'm glad Brewster's actually doing something with her life."

That was the moment Bucky decided he didn't like Alana's mother. When he understood why she closed herself off when she spoke about her, when she spoke to her. Bucky didn't want her to sound the say she did when she spoke to her mother. He didn't want her to look like she did in that moment.

Alana stood a few feet away, her arms hanging by her sides, her gaze fixed on a point on the floor. She looked ashamed and Bucky knew she had nothing to be ashamed of. Alana Mercer had quite literally saved the world, and there her own mother was treating her like she was a disappointment.

He couldn't stand to see her that way.

* * *

Breakfast passed without much more incident.

Bucky observed mostly, smiling when Alana interacted with her brother and cousins and her cousin's children. Kailee and Hanna had come downstairs shortly after Bucky, a small six year old girl trailing behind them. When the girl had caught sight of Alana, she had beamed, running forwards on her little legs to the S.H.I.E.L.D agent, who had scooped the little girl up in her arms, twirling her around.

Bucky noticed how everyone watched what they said to Paula. He watched Alana sink into herself with every degrading comment. And it wasn't just one comment. There were multiple, whenever her mother could point out what Alana did wrong, she did.

Though now Bucky closed the bedroom door behind himself after he and Alana were inside.

"Your mother's a witch." The bluntness of his statement made Alana stop in her tracks towards the bathroom. She turned around to face him, watching as he took off his gloves and threw them on the bed.

"Tell me what you really think, Buck." She chuckled darkly. He ran an aggravated hand through his hair, looking into her eyes and still seeing the embarrassment and despondency her mother's comments had put there.

"You're not a failure. You're strong and independent and smart and brave and beautiful and generous and I hate how she rips you apart without a second thought. She's your _goddamn mother_. And you," He let out a breath, not realizing he had been making his way closer to her as he ranted. Bucky was only a few inches away from her, Alana starred up at him – wide eyed – as he kept talking. His metal hand came up to rest on the side of her face, tilting her chin upwards so she was looking into his blue eyes, "You deserve so much more. You've saved the world." He paused, his eyes drifting to her lips briefly before going back to her eyes, "You saved me."

She was silent for a few moments before her hand came up to cover his.

"I'm a fucked up secret agent who'd be long dead if I didn't fall into a chemical plant." She told him as she took his hand away from her face, stepping backwards, ignoring the pull she felt towards him.

"I don't think that." He insisted.

"You see the good in people," She said with a roll of her eyes, "That's why you're the better person between the two of us."

Bucky scoffed, "You think I'm the better person?" he asked incredulously. "I killed hundreds of people."

Her answer is immediate, "That wasn't you." Bucky rolled his eyes now, "We've been through this, hundreds of times." She was in the closet now, but he'd followed, leaning against the doorway as she picked clothes out of a wardrobe.

"I remember-"

"We're stopping this conversation right now, James." She cut him off. He watched her sling a pair of jeans over her shoulder before turning around to face him, "You weren't you. They _wiped your brain. _You didn't remember who you were, or what was right and wrong." She let out a sigh, her eyes softening slightly as her shoulders sagged down, "I appreciate how much you care." Bucky watched as she sorted through the array of shirts that hung on the rack, she only spent a few seconds thrifting through before pulling a dark purple cardigan off its hanger and slinging it over her shoulder as well, "I'm going to take'a quick shower." She told him, and Bucky got the underlying message that he should stop blocking the doorway.

He moved so she could slip past him, watching her back until she closed the bathroom door behind herself.

* * *

Hours later and Alana was on child duty. Her mother had gone into town to get groceries, taking Hanna and Kailee with her. Chandler and Johnny both had to finish up Christmas shopping, so Alana had said she'd watch the kids.

Bucky was perched on the couch, a lazy grin on his face as he watched Alana interact with them.

They were in the recreation room; a carpeted space with a widescreen TV, leather couches, and bookcases full of various board games, boxes of Legos, and – of course – books and DVDs. A pool table sat at the end of the room behind the couch Bucky currently sat on, the billiard sticks mounted neatly on the wall.

Currently, Alana sat cross-legged on the floor, trying to convince Nick that stacking all the couch cushions and surfing to the floor on them was a bad idea.

"Like, I get it, wicked cool and fun, but if you get hurt your mom would kill me." Alana said in a lazy voice as Nick continued to stack the cushions.

"Then I won't get hurt." Nick said, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"But you might get hurt, that's the point." Alana rested her chin atop Lilia's head. The little, blonde haired girl sat in her lap, a Barbie doll in her hands. Alana's arms were draped over Lilia's shoulders. "We could so find something else to do."

"Like what?" The little boy challenged, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Well, we could…" Alana trailed off, looking at Bucky hopefully. He ran a hand through his dark hair, leaning forwards so his elbows resting on his knees. He wasn't sure what little kids did for fun, not in the twenty-first century at least.

Back when he was a kid Bucky would run around the city, playing baseball or kickball in the back alleys. It was winter though, so outside activities were limited. "Hide n' seek?" Bucky suggested.

"Yeah!" Lilia lit up instantly, the doll dropping to the floor as she looked excitedly between Bucky and Alana. "Can we? Can we?" When the six year old went to stand up, Alana tightened her hold and brought her back down into her lap.

"I didn't say you could get up!" Alana teased, squeezing the little girl's sides and making her squeal in delight.

"Stop!" She laughed, and Alana let her go a moment later.

"How 'bout it, Nicky?" Alana looked to the eight year old, whose mouth was skewed off to the side.

"Is James gunna play too?" Nick had taken a liking to Bucky instantly, asking him questions about New York when Bucky had mentioned that was where he was from.

"Of course." Bucky told the boy, who smiled at the man's response and nodded his head.

"Okay." He paused, then his hand flew to his nose. "Not it!"

"Not it!"

"Not it!"

Alana was the last one in the room without her finger on her nose. She had been too distracted watching Bucky talk to Nick. Bucky caught her eye and smirked, "Fine," Alana sighed, "I'm counting to thirty and you gotta stay in the basement. No goin' upstairs."

The next hour was spent with the four of them finding various hiding places in the home's basement. While the recreation room took up most of the lower floor, there was a bar area, the cabinets in which Lilia was able to squeeze into.

It took Nick fifteen minutes to find her.

The kids opened up to Bucky more the longer the game went on, and by the time they decided to call it quits, Lilia had convinced him to give her a piggy back ride. Alana's lips pulled up as she watched Bucky trudge up the stairs, pretending to be exhausted at the top of the stairs as Lilia kept her hands locked together in front of his neck.

It was well into the afternoon by the time Paula, Kailee, and Hanna returned from the supermarket.

"What time's dinner tomorrow night?" Alana asked as she and Bucky helped put the plethora of groceries away.

"Eight, we're going to mass at six o'clock." Alana's mother informed her daughter, who paused after putting down a can of cranberries.

"I'm not going to church." Her words came out slow and calculated. Paula turned to stare at the back of her daughter's head.

"Excuse me?"

Bucky watched out of the corner of his eye as Alana went to grab another bag of groceries, stopping as her mother seized her by the forearm. Beside him, Kailee shook her head slightly. Alana let out a breath, "I won't be joining you."

In the next moment she was being yanked out of the kitchen. Paula's heeled shoes clicked along the tile floor as she dragged her daughter away, the two of them disappearing around the corner.

The adults who were left in the kitchen stayed silent for a few seconds, Bucky starring at the spot where Alana and her mother had gone out of view. Tommy was the first to speak up, "James," Bucky looked over, raising his eyebrows at Tommy in question. "How much has she told you?"

'About our mother' went unspoken. Bucky folded his arms across his chest, "Enough." He said bluntly, "I've got a pretty good idea."

"Why don't we just call her out on it?" Johnny spoke up from his spot by the pantry, Tommy tossed him an irked look.

"You know we can't do that." Tommy ran a hand through is hair, shaking his head, "Alana can handle herself, we should keep getting ready."

"For what?"

Hanna was the one to answer Bucky's question, "Our grandparents are coming over for dinner tonight, tomorrow too." She paused, smiling slightly when Bucky made an annoyed face, "They love Alana, Paula will be nicer to her when they're around. Grandma and grandpa really have missed her."

"She's never mentioned them."

"She doesn't mention a lot of things, a lot she thinks we don't know about her." Bucky's shoulders stiffened at Chandler's words, the normally jovial man taking on an aura of seriousness.

"You mean-"

"Please," Chandler cut Bucky off, sending a glance to his kids, who still sat on the island, listening to the conversation, "we have an idea of her work. Kept Paula and anyone else in the dark though."

"How do you know that I knew already?" Bucky asked skeptically, they weren't being very careful.

"She mentioned you before," Tommy said, surprising the World War II veteran, "When I visited her earlier in the year, she showed me your picture."

"Oh, I-" Bucky shut his mouth mid-sentence as he heard Alana's mother raise her voice slightly. He couldn't make out the whole sentence, but her harsh tone was enough for him to know she wasn't happy. When he glanced at Hanna and Tommy, their expressions told him that they heard her too.

"Daddy," Lilia sent her father a worried look, she was becoming upset with the tension she could feel in the house. Seconds later, the distinct sound of skin against skin echoed towards them from the other room.

"_Please make sure you do well then._" Paula's hissed whisper carried over, the woman herself striding back into the kitchen a minute later. When Alana didn't follow, Bucky sent Tommy a glance, catching the dark-haired man's eye. Tommy nodded, and Bucky slipped out of the kitchen, finding the main staircase and heading up the stairs and towards Alana's room.

He found her standing in front of the bathroom mirror, pressing a damp washcloth to her cheekbone. Bucky stood in the doorway, and she raised her eyes to meet his reflection.

"Even with my talents it still stings for the first few minutes." She said it so casually that it made his chest ache.

"What'd she say?"

"Told me how embarrassing it'll be for her when she shows up to church without me there."

"You goin' to go?"

"No." Alana lowered the washcloth, feeling her skin with the tips of her fingers slightly where she'd been hit. "We came up with a compromise." She turned around then, lifting herself up to sit on the bathroom counter facing him. Bucky leaned against the doorframe, pulling off the gloves and tossing them towards her.

"If you don't mind my asking, why won't you go?"

"My God left a long time ago." She explained, "After everything that I went through, I know this sounds selfish, but what kind of God would let me go through all of that? That's not the saving and forgiving higher power I was told existed."

Bucky nodded. He understood her reasoning. He remembered going to Church with Steve in Brooklyn. Sitting in a pew and listening to a preacher for an hour talk about Jesus and angels and a forgiving Lord. Steve had believed in that enough for the both of them. But Bucky? He'd never really prayed, or believed in miracles.

He suddenly remembered how Clint had told him to make sure the crucifix wasn't in the hospital room when Alana woke up.

"I'll stay here with you."

Her lips pulled upward on one end and she hopped off the counter, walking towards him and taking his metal hand. Bucky watched as she moved his hand around, weaving her fingers through his and squeezing tightly. Her gaze stayed trained on their intertwined hands, and he continued to stare down at her quizzically.

"I was hoping you'd say that."


	20. Chapter 19

**Woah, new chapter! Please tell me how you like it, reviews make the updates comes faster! **

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything**

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"_Living means taking chances. Risks. Playing safe all the time is being dead inside, even if you happen to still be breathing." –Ellen Hopkins_

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Looking inside the Mercer household that night, a very domestic scenario was playing out.

The family was seated around a long dining table, plates of food covering almost every inch of the oak surface. Paula Mercer sat at the head of the table, looking over her nieces, nephews, children, and other relatives who occupied the remaining chairs. The only two who looked out of place sat beside each other closer to the opposite end of the table.

Bucky Barnes felt oddly out of place as he asked Alana's grandfather, Jethro, to pass him the bowl of mashed potatoes. The older man was pushing ninety seven, his once black hair now a snowy white. He had wrinkles covering his face and his eye sight was starting to fail him, but he had easily recognized Alana when he'd seen her. It was odd to Bucky, thinking that he was the same age as the man who passed him a porcelain bowl from across the table.

"Thank you, sir." Bucky smiled softly as he thanked him, the old man nodding fondly, as though he hadn't just met Bucky. James scooped the food onto his plate before holding it slightly towards Alana. She looked up from her plate, meeting his eyes for a fleeting moment before shaking her head softly.

"No, thank you." She declined. Alana had relaxed significantly since her grandparents had arrived just an hour before. Bucky could see it in her shoulders, which were bare given the white strapless dress she wore left them exposed.

He had openly starred when she first walked out after slipping into the dress. To be fair, she had given him the once over after Bucky had changed into the button-down and black blazer he currently wore.

"Now, Brewster, honey what happened to that fellow you were seeing?" Alana looked up quickly as her grandmother addressed her. "What was his name?"

All eyes were now on Alana as she put her fork down on her plate, turning her attention to her gray-haired grandmother. "I haven't dated anyone in years, grandma." She said politely.

"There was a boy you brought around last time you were in town." Her grandfather remembered, "Tall, lanky kid."

"Quinn?"

"Yes!" Her grandmother smiled as Alana figured out who they were referring to.

Quinn Delito had been Alana's temporary partner for all of two missions. He had only met her grandparents when they had ended up driving through town and Alana had mentioned the fact to him. Quinn had insisted they stop in for an impromptu visit.

"How is he?" A stab of guilt flared up in her chest, but Alana pushed a smile onto her face. Beside her, Bucky saw through it and placed his hand on her knee under the table.

"He's well," Alana lied, "We weren't dating, just friends." Another lie, she had slept with him a few times. It didn't matter anymore though, he'd given his life in service of S.H.I.E.L.D on their second mission together. She'd watched the life leave his eyes.

"Well, maybe this nice man here will take you up." Alana blushed as the table laughed at her grandmother's comment. "Don't you think she's pretty, James?" Alana's grandmother raised her eyebrows suggestively.

"Elaine, don't terrorize her." Alana's grandfather scolded his wife gently, though he was chuckling as well.

"She's very pretty." James agreed, making Elaine smile brightly. He squeezed Alana's knee underneath the table.

"Have you heard her sing before?" James shook his head in response to Jethro's question. "Oh, sweetie you'll have to sing for us." He looked to Alana, who bit her lip softly before sending a glance down the table to her mother, who narrowed her eyes at her daughter.

Alana composed herself for a brief moment in order to make her voice come out cheery, "Of course I will." The beaming smile that took up both her grandparents faces almost made Alana excited to sing again.

Singing was something she'd done with her father, before he went overseas for his tour. Back when their family actually was happy. After his suicide, she and Tommy would sometimes play the piano when their mother was away. He'd play the notes and she'd sing the tune. Later on, Alana even made a few extra bucks singing at the pub in downtown Boston.

She had loved it. Clint had even joked around, saying her codename should be canary before the accident that led to her being referred to as the Phoenix. Alana sang along to everything. The radio, the songs on television, songs during movies.

It became a less frequent thing after she fell into the factory. She used her voice even less after the Battle of New York, and then she'd gone silent after Batswana.

Alana still knew all the words, she just didn't _feel _like it anymore. She didn't see the point, it wasn't fun for her.

But she'd do it for her grandparents, because they didn't need the burden of knowing how empty their granddaughter felt inside. If she sang, then she could trick them into thinking she was still the same little girl they'd take to the zoo each summer.

"You'll fall in love with'er, James." Elaine told him over the sounds of silverware clinking against plates. The older woman glanced down the table to Tommy, "You'll play, won't you Thomas?"

The man smiled, his eyes lighting up. "Of course, grandma. We'll do a nice serenade, won't we, Al?" Alana rolled her eyes at the nickname.

"Whatever you play, I'll sing the words."

"You should rap." Chandler suggested, pointing between the two of them with his fork.

"Chandler! Manners!" Hanna reached across Lilia to shove Chandler's hand down, her husband giving her a dead-pan look.

"I talk with my hands, I can't help it!" He defended, "But seriously."

"The day Alana raps is the day aliens exist." Johnny tossed up the comment.

Kailee let out a laugh, her brown curls bouncing slightly, "They do exist, remember?"

Johnny's lips pursed together as he nodded curtly, "_Right_, I forget about that sometimes." Alana pushed her chair back at the subject change, taking her now empty plate and turning to Nick, who sat on her other side.

"You finished, Nicky?" She asked, taking his plate when the eight-year old nodded.

"Thank you." He smiled up at her, Alana smiling back automatically at the boy. She excused herself, taking her grandfather's empty plate as well before making her way to the kitchen, her four inch heels clicking against the hardwood flooring.

She could hear the others talking from the dining room as she turned on the sink, plugging the drain and letting the basin fill before squirting in the dish soap. As she washed the dishes, she let her mind wander.

She reminded herself to text Steve later, just to check up on him. It was so easy for everyone to forget that he wasn't just Captain America, but Steve Rogers as well. A Steve Rogers who, in actuality, didn't have many friends in this century, even after being defrosted for three years.

Alana had recognized that when she'd been assigned to him. He was human and he was suffering from depression, something she could relate to. The assassin made sure that Steve knew she was his friend, and that she was there for him. The holiday season had been particularly hard for Steve, so she made sure to check up on him almost every day.

She felt bad that Bucky was with her on Christmas, but Steve had assured her that it still wouldn't be the same. Bucky wasn't Bucky yet, not fully, not the Bucky Barnes who was Steve's best friend. No, this Bucky was different. Steve had told her a few nights ago it would be like spending Christmas with a stranger.

He'd understood that she wanted Bucky with her while she dealt with her family.

Steve Rogers was one of her best friends for a reason.

"Here," Alana looked up to see Bucky standing beside her, a stack of dishes held out to her. She took them wordlessly, Bucky tossing her a grin as he moved to her other side. He grabbed a nearby dishtowel with a smirk, "You wash, I'll dry."

"Alright." She conceded. They finished the dishes with a comfortable silence resting between them. Alana was surprised at how quickly James had picked up on where everything went, but he always had had a good memory.

She was wiping down the sink when the first few notes from the piano carried over into the kitchen. Her hands paused, and for a moment she let herself just listen to Tommy play. It reminded her of the times when they'd be in their small apartment back in Boston. She would clean the dishes, her mother would go out to do God knows what, and then she and Tommy would lift up the key cover and play.

Their apartment always had a musty smell to it, the lingering scent of alcohol and mold never quite completely gone. It was something she had grown used to over the years, and even then – standing in the kitchen with Bucky watching her out of the corner of his eye – she could almost smell it again.

Nick scurrying around the corner broke her from her reverie.

"C'mon, Alana! Tommy's gunna play a song for Lilia first, then he says you gotta sing!" The little boy bounced on the balls of his feet in excitement as Alana put the sponge back in its place.

"We're comin'." She told him, "Nicky, tuck in your shirt." The boy froze, looking down at himself and stuffing the hem of his navy polo shirt back into his pants.

Bucky leaned over to whisper in her ear as they walked out of the kitchen, "What're you singing?" He asked, his breath warming the side of her neck.

"Whatever Tommy plays."

They followed Nick into a room Bucky hadn't seen before. It was near the back of the house, one wall lined with floor to ceiling windows, and had ivory wallpaper throughout the room. A piano sat in the center, leather couches and chairs arranged around the space as well, though an open area that was clearly left for dancing was closest to the windows themselves.

The rest of the family stood around the piano, Alana's grandparents seated on a nearby couch as Tommy sat on the piano bench.

It was an old grand piano, one Coulson had helped Alana find shortly after they bought the house.

Alana paused a ways away, watching Lilia dance around the instrument as her older brother played the last few lines of Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer from memory. The little girl belted out the lyrics, waving her hands and beaming as she did so.

Chandler scooped her up at the end, the little girl dissolving into giggles.

Alana made her way over to the piano then, Bucky following behind her, stopping a few feet away to stand behind the couch beside Johnny and Kailee. He watched Alana run a nervous hand through her short hair as she took a deep breath.

"Any requests?" Tommy asked, twisting around on the bench to look at his grandparents. Elaine shook her head.

"Whatever you'd like, dear." She insisted, waving her hand dismissively, "You too are always wonderful no matter what the song."

Tommy just smiled in response before looking to his younger sister. He raised his eyebrows, and she plastered a grin onto her face. "Ready?" He asked, his voice soft as he laid his hands over the keys.

Alana stood up taller, brought her shoulders back, and rested her arms over the top of the piano. Looking down at her brother, she nodded.

The older of the Mercer siblings played the opening notes a moment later, the clear, crisp sound echoing throughout the room. James didn't recognize it, and found himself leaning forwards as Alana started to hum softly.

When she opened her mouth and sang, well, Bucky felt his jaw go slack.

"_Where are you Christmas? Why can't I find you?  
Why have you gone away?" _

Everyone in the room was silent, even Lilia, who had been chattering away to her mother, stopped to listen to Alana sing.

"_Where is the laughter you used to bring me?  
Why can't I hear music play?"_

Alana looked away from her brother as he glanced down at the piano keys, her gaze lifting up to look out the window. Outside, the moon reflected off the snow-covered landscape.

"_My world is changing  
I'm rearranging  
Does that mean Christmas changes too?" _

Slowly, a smile grew over Alana's features, her brown eyes becoming brighter as her voice became stronger. As Tommy played, Alana walked out from behind the piano, making her way to the side of it and placing a hand on her brother's shoulder.

"_Where are you Christmas? Do you remember  
The one you used to know?  
I'm not the same one, see what the time's done  
Is that why you have let me go?"_

She looked up at Bucky, who still listened and watched awe-struck as she sang. Alana gathered herself up taller, taking in a short breath before driving her voice up several octaves.

"_Christmas is here  
Everywhere, oh  
Christmas is here  
If you care, oh"_

Her hand dropped from Tommy's shoulder, her brother glancing up at her with a smile.

"_If there is love in your heart and your mind  
You will feel like Christmas all the time."_

From a few feet away, Chandler glanced over at James, smirking at the astonished look on the man's face. He would bet he had looked the same when he first heard his cousin sing. Her voice was so precise, no one would ever guess that she could sound like this.

"_I feel you, Christmas, I know I've found you  
You never fade away." _

Alana moved around the back of the piano again, her hand gliding over the top.

"_The joy of Christmas stays here inside us  
Fills each and every heart with love."_

She caught Bucky's eye, her mind dashing back to the first time she ever saw him. She could still see him, the broken man sitting on that single bed, his knees drawn up to his chest as he stared blankly into space. She remembered how he wouldn't speak to her, wouldn't even look at her. Now, he couldn't take his eyes off her.

Alana had thought about it before, how Bucky Barnes was someone she was never supposed to meet. He was born in 1917 for Christ's sake. But they were together now, and she doesn't know what she would have done if she had turned Steve down when he asked her to take the mission of reintegrating The Winter Soldier into modern day society. He wasn't The Winter Soldier to her, not even James Buchanan Barnes.

No. To Alana, he was Bucky.

She doesn't know what she'd do without him.

"_Where are you Christmas?  
Fills your heart with love." _

She looked away from him as she finished the song, smiling down at Tommy as he played the final ending chords. When he finished, he sat back, his hands falling into his lap. He looked up at his younger sister, winking at her once.

Alana let out a bark of a laugh at him, looking expectantly at her grandparents, who held hands on the couch. "Just beautiful." Elaine said wistfully.

"Can you sing the Frozen song!?" Lilia asked excitedly. Alana chuckled, leaning forward and resting her chin on her now-crossed arms.

"Can I?" She teased.

"_Will _you?" Lilia corrected herself, rolling her eyes at Alana. The older girl looked to her cousins.

"It's pretty darn close to your bedtime." Chandler pointed out while Alana and Tommy simultaneously chanced a look towards their mother. From her seat, Paula nodded her head slightly and Alana let out a breath she didn't know she was holding.

"How about tomorrow night, honey?" Hanna asked the six year old, who now stood pouting, her little arms crossed over her chest.

"Lilia, what if I sing it to you while you're in bed, hmm?" Alana hummed, tilting her head to the side slightly, "After you've brushed your teeth and put on your pajamas."

"Alright." The little girl nodded her head.

The next few minutes was flurry of activity. Everyone said goodbye to Elaine and Jethro before the kids were sent to get ready for bed. James stayed downstairs, talking to Johnny as Alana tucked Lilia in for the night.

Paula had excused herself shortly after her parents left. It was almost eleven by the time Bucky made his way up the stairs, his fingers itching to take off the gloves that covered his hands.

As he reached the top of the stairs, he heard Alana's voice drifting over from a few rooms down. Silently, Bucky walked over, pausing just outside the doorway to listen. The soft glow from Lilia's nightlight was the only source that illuminated from the six-year old's room.

"Alana?" Lilia asked, her little voice wavering slightly. "When you leave, are you gunna come back again?" The S.H.I.E.L.D agent's heart constricted at the girl's words. She wished she could say 'yes' right away, with no doubt in her mind that it was true. But Alana didn't like to lie to kids, and she knew the truth.

If it was a choice between her death and saving dozens of civilians, she'd pick her own death each time. Sure, some people would mourn her loss, but Alana knew they'd move on. She was dispensable, she could be forgotten.

"If I can." She told Lilia, smiling softly down at her. The girl nodded and Alana brushed a hand over her blonde hair. "Goodnight."

James took a step back then, making his way to the bedroom.

His mind drifted back to her singing. It had reminded him of the dames he would pick up in bars back during the war. How confident he had been, how forward in asking them to dance, on asking them out on a date. Bucky would see a pretty girl and she'd be on his arm within a few hours.

He was so wrapped up in those thoughts that he didn't hear the bedroom door open, or notice that he was just sitting on the bed in his sweatpants, staring blankly into space. What was so different about Alana that made him be so cautious? He knew he felt something for her, those feelings were very strong too.

So what was holding him back?

"Bucky?" Alana made her way over to him after closing the door. Her instant thought was that he was stuck in an episode, reliving a memory of his past in which he would start acting out from in a matter of seconds. As she came closer, she studied the jagged scar tissue that surrounded the beginning of his metal arm.

Only a few feet away and Alana reached out, her fingertips brushing his tanned skin. He jumped slightly, breaking away from his thoughts and looking up at her. He smirked up at her, letting himself take her in again.

Even when she only wore shorts and a tank top, he wanted her. "You okay?" Her voice was concerned as her eyebrows pulled together, a hand still on his shoulder. It slid down his arm as he stood up.

"Don't hit me for this." He whispered, his flesh hand coming up to cup her jaw. A moment later his lips came down to cover hers.


	21. Chapter 20

**So, public service announcement: you guys are awesome! Thanks so much for all the reviews I love hearing from all of you! Loved it so much that I got this next chapter written pretty dang fast ;)**

**Hope you like it, it's transitioning into the next part of the story. Also, the song from last chapter is from the Grinch. I actually realized this after I picked it to use, that movie terrifies me. Just a fun fact if you wanted to know.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything in this, sorry to say.**

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"_Your laugh, echoes down the hallway. Carves into my hollow chest, spreads over the emptiness. It's bliss. It's so simple but we can't stay. Overanalyze again, would it really kill you if we kissed?" – Halsey, Drive_

* * *

For a brief moment she just stood there. Her mind struggling to catch up to the fact that Bucky was _kissing _her. Alana couldn't remember the last time someone who actually knew who she was had kissed her on the lips. It had to have been at least three years ago.

Once her brain caught up, he was already pulling away. She surprised him though – like she always did – by sliding her hand over the back of his neck and pulling his mouth to hers again. Their lips worked together seamlessly, and her other hand found a place to rest on his bare chest. When she slide her hand up into his hair, Bucky opened his mouth for her, a low growl coming up from the back of his throat.

Alana tugged and Bucky stepped closer, his metal hand closing around her hip. When she bit his lip, Bucky pulled back slowly, resting his forehead against hers, his eyes closed.

"You gunna hit me?" He whispered, surprised when he felt her soft lips meet his again. On them, he could feel her smile.

"Nope." She told him, her breath mixing with his.

"We need to talk about this."

"I don't really do talking." Her arms slide up to wrap around his neck loosely. Heat radiated off his body, warming her and making Alana feel safer than she had in months. "I just want you to know how much I've thought of kissing you." Her voice dipped lower at the end, making Bucky angle his hips away from her as he felt his boxers tighten. She opened her eyes, a smirk over her lips.

"Nice to know." He pulled his forehead from hers then, opening his own eyes to look down at her. "But really, call me old fashioned, but we need to talk about it."

"Later."

"Later you'll just say later again." Alana's eyebrows rose.

"You know me pretty well," She told him, impressed he had known. "Go take your shower, then we'll talk."

"Promise?" He looked down at her, doubt clouding his face. Alana gave him a tight lipped smile before leaning up on her toes and pressing her lips to his quickly.

"Yeah." She stepped back, her arms falling down to her sides, she jerked her head towards the bathroom door, "Go."

Bucky showered and changed quickly, his thoughts clouded with the still lingering feeling of Alana's lips on his. How long had she felt the same way about him?

When he came out, the sleeping arrangements had changed. The couch was folded up and Alana was under the covers of the bed. Bucky shot her a questioning, albeit amused look, to which she shrugged.

Wordlessly he climbed in, the two of them reaching for one another instantly. His arms wound around her, Alana resting her head on his broad chest, her fingertips tracing the scarred skin where flesh became metal.

"I love it." She whispered, not looking up at Bucky. He moved the limb, the mechanics whirring softly.

"That why you like me?" He was only half-teasing.

"No," She said truthfully, her tone uncharacteristically serious, "I like you because you're resilient." He chose to stay silent, and Alana kept speaking to explain for him, "You've been through so much shit, and yet, you still find more good and beauty in people than I do." She turned her head to look up at him now, reaching up with her hand to run it through his damp hair, "You don't live in fear of relapsing like I do," She smiled up at him then, "You're pretty cute, too."

"I'm cute?" Bucky rolled his eyes, his heart skipping a beat when she pressed a kiss to his jawline.

"Do you have any idea how many girls swooned when they'd see your picture in history books?"

"Were you one of them?" She scoffed at him, resting her chin on his chest then, closing her eyes as Bucky's metal hand brushed through her hair.

"I thought it'd be weird to have a crush on someone as old as my grandfather."

"Hate to break it to you-"

"I'm ignoring it, shut up." He just laughed. The sound was so pure and it brought a smile to Alana's lips, seconds later, she was laughing with him, burying her face into his chest as his arms wrapped around her completely.

* * *

He woke up to Alana getting out of bed. It took his mind a moment later to register the ringing of her cell phone.

Bucky glanced at the clock, the blinking lights telling him it was only just after three in the morning.

Alana stood up, flipping her phone open. "Mercer." She had learned a long time ago to not question calls from unavailable numbers, especially if they came into her flip phone.

Bucky sat up in bed, supporting his upper body on his metal arm as he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. Even in the dark, he could see Alana's eyes widen in disbelief.

"_Nick_?!" Alana ran a hand through her hair, "Sorry, sir." She apologized a moment later. Bucky watched as Alana listened, and a second later she had flipped the bedside lamp on. "Yes, sir he's here." She threw Bucky a sideways look, as if to confirm his presence.

Now he sat up completely. Alana put her hand over the receiver for a moment, holding the phone from her mouth, "Pack up." She told Bucky, her tone leaving no room for argument. She was rushing into the closet a moment later.

When he got into the closet to retrieve his own things, Alana had clothes thrown around the room. The phone was still glued to her ear, "No, sir." She let out a huff, "Of course I'm fucking sure!" She snapped violently a second later, ripping open a drawer. "That's impossible, he was-" she shut her mouth mid-sentence.

Bucky wordlessly took both their duffle bags once he was done throwing in clothes, taking and depositing them by the door before going into the bathroom.

In the closet, panic was rising in Alana's chest. She strode out of the closet to find Bucky waiting by the door two minutes later. "I'll be there." She was saying, the color drained from her face. A flash of anger washed over her features and she rolled her eyes. "We're walking out the damn door. Gimme eight hours."

She was standing directly beside Bucky then, so he could hear the man on the other end, "You have five." The line disconnected then, and Alana swore as she stuffed her phone in her pocket, grabbing her duffle bag and slinging it over her shoulder.

"What's going on?" Bucky asked, grabbing a hold of her arm.

She ripped her arm away from him. "I'll tell you on the way." She muttered distractedly.

Bucky always forget that she was stronger than everyone else, so it took him a few moments to collect himself and follow her out of the room. He had his own bag slung over his shoulder and he watched as Alana hesitated at the top of the stairs, glancing down the hallway towards the other bedrooms.

"Are you gunna say goodbye?" Bucky asked, keeping his voice low.

She didn't look at him as she replied, "No." And then they kept moving.

It only took five more minutes for them to have their boots on and bags in the trunk of the car. Alana already had the engine running when Bucky closed the trunk. She looked back at the house and saw one of the bedroom lights on, the curtains drawn back.

Tommy watched as his little sister and James climb into the car. He had woken up when he heard voices, his room right beside hers. It wasn't even ten minutes later, and he was watching them leave.

As James rounded to the side of the car, the moonlight suddenly reflected off something. Tommy narrowed his eyes to get a better look. The tall, dark haired man slid effortlessly into the passenger seat, and as he reached out and closed the door, Alana's brother figured out what he was seeing.

James had a metal arm.

It clicked in his mind instantly. All the news stories less than a week ago of the assassinations in Washington. The Winter Soldier the press had called him. It had been too big of a story for S.H.I.E.L.D to cover up to the public. Tommy had seen the footage, read the reports of what he'd done.

_He _was Alana's rehabilitation mission all those months ago, Tommy realized. His little sister had been working with The Winter Soldier. She had become friends with him. She had brought the ex-Hydra assassin into their home for Christmas.

The Winter Soldier looked at his baby sister adoringly, like she was the only girl in the world.

* * *

"You mind explaining what's going on now?"

Alana's foot had the gas pedal pressed to the floorboard as they flew down the highway, seemingly unfazed by the snowy roads.

She'd driven in worse conditions before.

"A jet will be waiting to pick us up on the runway," She paused, her eyes not leaving the road, "You're going to New York." She could feel his eyes on her, but Alana refused to look at him.

She had to keep herself together.

"Where're you going?" Bucky's voice was eerily calm.

"That's classified."

"Screw classified," He shot back, scoffing at her. "_Alana_, tell me."

"Angola." She whispered, a lump rising in her throat. She swallowed it down, running a nervous hand through her short hair quickly, "They found something that's connected to the time I spent in Botswana." A piece of her mask seemed to crack then, and Bucky saw – for a split second – a look of fear pass through her eyes. "It should be impossible, because Clint and Tasha blew that hellhole sky high when they got me out. But they found something, a signal, I don't even know."

"Why not send someone else?" He asked. She looked at him now, shaking her head and letting out a dark chuckle.

"No one else knows that place like I do." She looked back to the road, "I see it all again every damn night."

* * *

Of all the places in New York, their jet landed at Stark Tower.

Alana didn't even get off the plane, since it was the one taking her the rest of the way to Africa.

She had changed into her uniform after they first boarded, and so she was decked out in all black as she said goodbye to Bucky. Alana only pulled him in for a tight hug, since the pilot was right there and her mind was occupied with millions of other thoughts.

"Tell Tony and Pepper I say hi." She told Bucky, forcing a small smile onto her face to hide how nervous she was.

Bucky nodded, catching her hand in his and giving it a squeeze, "Be careful." He had taken off his dog tags from around his neck then, slipping them onto her palm and closing her fingers around them.

"Merry Christmas, Bucky." She said right before he descended the off-ramp, his duffle bag slung over his shoulder. He glanced back at her, a pit settling in his stomach, and smirked.

"Merry Christmas, 'Lana." He'd stood on the landing deck long enough to watch the ramp go up, until Alana disappeared from his sight.

* * *

Twenty hours later: Christmas Day

Location: -18.27S, 22.63E

* * *

The entire situation put her on edge and had the hairs at the back of her neck standing up. Alana was surrounded by a STRIKE team – newly formed she had been told – as they trekked through the African plains. She hadn't heard anything else from Nick Fury, which was strange to her.

Usually the bastard never stopped calling.

The climate was still familiar to her. The heat felt as though it'd suffocate her from the inside out and she wore a second layer of sweat on top of her skin.

She tightened her hold on her bow, looking up again to check and see if Agent McGuire, who was leading at point, was still standing. The vastness of the plains was what made Alana choose the bow, if she could see it from far away, she could kill it. A sniper would've worked as well, but that was too loud.

Alana didn't want to be noticed, especially not here.

A chill ran down her spine, and a moment later she watched McGuire fall to the ground. An arrow was notched instantly and ready to fire. Her eyes swept the landscape, searching the tall grasses for any movement. The remaining three agents all had their guns drawn.

Alana ran through a quick survey of the area. If she was taking out this group, where would she hide?

Her eyes zoned in on a patch of dense underbrush a few hundred yards away. Her mind replayed the angle at which McGuire's body fell, and she used that to aim, letting her arrow fly shortly after.

The sound of a body hitting the ground told her she had been right.

As she reached back to grab another arrow, her world shifted. Alana collapsed to the ground as her head spun, the earth spinning around and around and around beneath her feet. She clutched her head, panic overpowering everything else. She didn't even register that she'd fallen on one of her own arrows, the head lodged into her side.

_No_, her mind chanted it over and over again as the world kept spinning. Her stomach tightened, and then she retched into the grass, the sound of gunfire and running boots serving as background music to her own version of hell that was playing out.

She didn't understand. She'd been taking the medication, she'd been cleared.

But the world was still spinning, and Alana forced herself to open her eyes, forced herself to ignore her instincts and embracing the madness of her rotating world.

Minutes later it was slowing. She pushed herself up halfway, wincing as she saw the arrow protruding from her side. Her vision was blurry and her mouth tasted like vomit.

"_Ke kgale re sa bonane_, Agent Mercer." (Long time no see)

When she lifted her head, Alana felt like she was in a nightmare. It was the same face she saw every night, the same voice she heard. The man she had begged to stop, the man who put her in a cage like she was a dog, the man who beat her, who clubbed her, who broke her soul.

And he was fucking smiling down at her gently, his hands clasped gently behind his back. She reached for her pistol and a boot slammed into her back, kicking her back onto the ground.

She landed in her own vomit.

The man before her chuckled, and Alana's eyes widened in terror again as the ground shifted below her.

"_Futsek bwana_." (Fuck off.) She only knew a limited amount of Setswana, but Alana made good use of it. The man who stood above her seemed impressed, she hadn't known that one last he saw her.

"Agent Mercer." He chuckled, taking a step towards her while shaking his head, "You see, you never left me."


	22. Chapter 21

**You are great people. FYI. I love all the reviews and favorites and follows! This chapter's on the shorter side, I apologize for that but I just wanted it separate from the events for next chapter. Hope you enjoy and tell me what you thought!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing here but my characters.**

* * *

_"You pretend it doesn't bother you but you just want to explode."_

* * *

His hand was clamped around her jaw, forcing Alana to watch the footage that rolled across the screen before her.

She would've been watching regardless, because she couldn't comprehend what her eyes were seeing.

S.H.I.E.L.D wasn't safe, it wasn't what it used to be. Alana had been lied to, all the Avengers had. Because Alana was seeing agents she knew saluting a Hydra officer.

She was watching Agent Rumlow command Hydra soldiers. Alana remembered when he joined S.H.I.E.L.D years ago, she had accompanied his Strike team to oversee their efficiency in the field.

"You see," her captor's English was terrible, and Alana cringed as he spit in her ear, "your precious agency isn't as pure as you thought." He let out a sigh, his hand leaving her face. "But let's get on to the good part." She looked up to see him smile sadistically.

Seconds later Alana saw herself on the screen.

She was strapped to a metal table, her body beaten and bloody. "We did tests on you during your last visit," He reminded her, as if she could forget. "The results were fascinating."

"Thrilling." Alana deadpanned, earning herself an elbow to the face. Her wrists strained against the handcuffs that bound them together. She had tried to pull them apart, but the steel was fortified, rendering her efforts useless.

"You're stronger than most, so what we had to do, was figure out how to bring you to your knees." The screen changed to show a cat scan of a brain. 'Mercer' was illuminated in the bottom corner. "This is your brain." He told her, gesturing towards the picture, "We played with it a bit, and we found that we can take control of a person's cerebellum. Even _yours_."

"I got fucking better." Alana spat out, blood dripping from the corner of her mouth from previous blows to her head.

The dark-skinned man snapped his fingers excitedly, "We let you think you got better. Think about it, when did you have episodes? When you first got back? When you were taking out that Hydra affiliate? We knew the whole time."

Alana felt like her heart was about to stop beating.

"If you experienced anything else, well, that's just your brain. But _we _control the rest. If we want to render you inoperable, it's as simple as-" Alana clammed her eyes shut as the world started to spin. Her head lolled to the side, as though her body was actually spinning.

She retched a moment later, and then the spinning ceased.

"As simple as that."

Her mind began to clear, and with it came the understanding of her situation. It spread through her chest, through her heart and brain. A dark void encompassing everything she knew, everything she ever wanted to do.

She was as good as dead, but was too selfish to die.

"What do you want with me?" She asked.

"As of now, you no longer work for S.H.I.E.L.D." She was told, "You're our prisoner, you will do as you are told. You know how to follow orders, don't you?" His face peered over at her, a dark eyebrow raised slightly.

"If I don't?" She wondered aloud, already knowing the answer.

"You don't want that vertigo to come back, do you?" Her blank stare was his answer, and the man grinned wickedly before lowering his head so his mouth was right beside her ear. His heavy breathing sent a shiver down her spine, and as he whispered to her, Alana shut her eyes. "Hail Hydra."

* * *

The boy's eyes were wide with fear, but Alana didn't feel a thing as she held the blade to his throat. He couldn't be older than twelve years old, and yet, it had only taken her a matter of hours to turn off her humanity.

"_Very good, darling."_

His name was Gasphar, he had finally told her that the night before. She wasn't sure if she was relieved to put a name to the face of her nightmares, or terrified all the more. But now, he was inside her head, and his voice came through her ear.

The boy's eyes flickered behind her, and tears started to roll down his face. She didn't need to know what he was looking at, she had created the bloody scene.

She had broken into their home.

She had woken them up from their sleep.

She had murdered his parents, his brother, his sister.

She didn't know why, but she'd been told to. That was reason enough.

"_Finish it."_

Her mind flashed to Nicky, and for a split second, he was the kid before her. Alana hesitated, her grip tightening on her knife. Sand was mixed into the little boy's hair, reminding Alana of how she'd ripped him from his hiding place behind his family's ice box. In the next moment a wave of nausea rolled over her as her mind shifted the world slightly.

"_Now."_ A flick of her wrist, and then the boy was gone. Alana stood up slowly, starring down at the little boy, the slit in his throat now gushing blood. Blood that was on her hands, on her knife.

Had she really been at dropping Bucky off at Stark Tower three days ago?

To Alana, it felt like it'd been months.

* * *

"_Your precious S.H.I.E.L.D managed to take away our greatest asset, so now you get to be his replacement. It was always the plan, even before you met him. Asset 17 was becoming more and more unstable with every mission. We got into your head so that we could bring you in when you were needed. Your purpose isn't complicated. You will be kept off the grid until we call you in. You will be given missions and you will carry them out successfully and report back to us in a prompt manner. The enhanced enzymes in your blood stream were a result from your fall into our research facility, they degenerated any fatality inducing devices we tried to implant in your body. So if you disobey, or take a step out of line, we can't kill you instantly._

_But we can kill them. So we highly recommend you comply to the best of your abilities. Just remember Alana, we can control you, we're inside your head. Hydra can ensure peace in our time. We are not the enemy here, we're even going to let you say goodbye to your friends."_

Her mind replayed the words they had told her over and over again as she sat on the steel bench. Trying desperately to find a flaw, find a loophole in which she could get out of this.

She couldn't find a single one, and that terrified her. For the fourth time in her life, she was truly scared of what was going to happen. She hated who she was already becoming, hated how she'd murdered that innocent family in the desert just hours earlier, hated how she hadn't tried to escape yet, hated how quickly all her morals flew out the window.

She stood up when she heard boots making their way down the hallway. Moments later, two men appeared in front of her cell, Gasphar standing between the two of them. His eyes trained up and down the length of her body, taking in the simple clothes she had been provided. Just jeans and a modest white button down.

"Let's go." He told her, the door rattling as it was slid open. The guards approached her carefully, their guns pointed at her head. Alana wordlessly held out her hands, her mouth setting into a thin line as handcuffs bound her wrists together.

He didn't speak again until they were making their way down the long corridor, towards the exit hanger. "You understand what's expected?" Alana nodded her head.

"I report to the recon location at oh eight hundred." Her voice was empty, "I don't tell them a thing."

"Good girl." They rounded a corner, another agent approaching them with a leather jacket in hand. The Hydra symbol was stitched onto his uniform. Gasphar took it from him, nodding his head gratefully as he motioned for the two agents flanking Alana to take off her handcuffs. "Do not be seen after you are retrieved." He warned her, narrowing his eyes, "They need to believe your death."


	23. Chapter 22

**I'm just going to leave this here.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Except Alana, who a lot of you seem to think is pretty cool, which I think is pretty awesome. Keep on leaving reviews they make me happy.**

* * *

_If you could read my mind you'd be in tears_

* * *

December 31st, 2013

* * *

She had stared at him for a long time, both her mind and heart dreading the next few hours to come. Gasphar had just sat there, a sadistic grin on his face as their pilot got permission to land on Stark Tower.

They were, after all, integrated into S.H.I.E.L.D. Jarvis didn't know they were actually Hydra.

Alana had exited the jet with the strict order to not be late to the recon point. She had nodded curtly, and twenty minutes later she still stood alone on the rooftop, looking out over the city. She could see Times Square, the New Year's countdown in progress as thousands had flocked there, all waiting for the ball to drop in a little less than two hours.

"Miss Mercer, Mr. Stark and Mr. Barton and starting to fret over your whereabouts." The British sounding AI informed her, his voice cutting through the mostly still air around where she stood. "If I may, you could catch a cold standing outdoors." That made her grin.

"Thank you, Jarvis. I'm just fine though, you know I don't get sick like that." Her voice was polite, and surprisingly strong for how she felt on the inside.

"Of course madam. If you would like to know, Captain Rogers is on his way up."

"Thank you." She nodded her head as well. She had always liked Tony's AI system, even if it had taken her a while to get used to him. As if on cue, she heard the door slide open a second later.

"You usually make a grand entrance." She turned around at Steve's familiar voice, her lips curving upwards at the sight of the broad-shouldered super soldier. His brow furrowed when he saw the faraway look in her eyes, but Steve didn't bring it up, instead folding her into his arms for a hug.

She clung to him tightly, her hands almost gripping the light blue fabric of his sweater. When they pulled apart, he held eye contact with her for a moment longer, "Are you alright?"

Alana nodded, "Yeah," she lied, "just a bit tired."

"Well, come on then, everyone's waitin' for you." He guided her with a hand hovering over the small of her back, "Aren't you cold?"

"Fuckin' freezing." She laughed softly as Steve shook his head, "I like looking over the city though."

They walked side by side back into the tower, Steve's hand dropping once she was through the doorway. Silence settled between the two for a moment, their steps echoing against the flooring. "How was your Christmas?" Alana asked, looking up at Steve.

"It was good," The super soldier nodded his head, "Went down to the VA with Sam." She grinned at that. Alana had only met Sam Wilson once before, but she had liked him immediately. He was good to Steve, and the blonde really needed a friend right now. He stuck out his wrist now, his other hand stuffed lazily in his pocket. "Thanks for the watch."

The silver Rolex had been something she'd purchased months ago when she saw it in a store. Alana had known Steve would like it; it was simple and wouldn't bust if he wore it on missions. "Thought you'd like it." She told him.

"Your gift's back at my apartment, you'll have to swing by soon and pick it up." Now she fought to keep the soft smile on her face, nodding her head as she felt her throat close up.

"Definitely, when I get back I'll stop in."

"You're shippin' out again?" His brow furrowed again, a single wrinkle appearing between his eyes as he stopped walking. Alana came to a halt as well, turning to face him, she shrugged her shoulders. Her hand came up slowly, and she wiped her index finger along the worry wrinkle, making it disappear as Steve's worried expression morphed into a small, humored smirk.

The gesture had been one she used to do daily, back when she was first helping him adjust to modern day life. _"You worry too fuckin' much, Captain." _She'd tease, rubbing out the wrinkle by hand, as if that made his problems go away instantly.

They both couldn't remember the last time she did it. "Just a quick job," She lied, "I'll be back within the week." He seemed to accept her answer, and the two continued their way towards the elevator. The doors slide open automatically, the two standing side by side as they closed.

"Twentieth floor, Jarvis." The Captain said politely, standing up ram rod straight as always.

"Yes, sir." The AI confirmed, and the elevator began its descent a second later.

"Thank you." Steve glanced down at Alana, "Bucky said you got called out Christmas morning."

She nodded, "I did." He could tell by her tone and the way she didn't make eye contact that Alana wasn't going to elaborate any further.

"He's downstairs."

"How is he?"

"Okay," She looked up at Steve now, eyebrows raised, "Gets along with everyone, just worried about you." Alana opened her mouth, but the elevator dinged, the doors slide open and Tony's voice boomed from across the room.

"There she is! How's it been goin', princess? I better get a hug." The billionaire was wearing his typical graphic t-shirt and jeans, and he beamed as he strutted across the room towards Alana. "How long's it been? Ten months? A year?" He cocked his head to the side slightly, Alana shaking her head as a grin spread across her face.

She opened her arms to embrace the scientist, "Too long," She whispered, trying to remember exactly when she had last seen Tony Stark in person. They pulled apart from one another and she tapped the center of his chest with her index finger, "That still workin'?"

Tony spread out his arms in grandeur, "I'm still here."

"Some would be happy if you were not." Alana looked up at the deep, authoritative voice. Thor stood up from where he sat on one of the many leather couches that occupied the room. Her eyes drifted to the coffee table, where Mjölnir sat steadfast in place. "Lady Alana!" His voice boomed, a boyish grin creeping across his face as he approached her, "It has been too long since we were last together!" He clapped a hand on her shoulder before pulling her in for a tight hug.

"That it has, Thor." She agreed quietly, swallowing the lump in her throat as she hugged the God of Thunder back tightly for a brief moment. "How's Asgard?"

"Asgard is well! You must come visit some day!" Alana nodded her head.

"I'd love too, when S.H.I.E.L.D gives me a day off." Thor chuckled, nodding his head as he clapped her on the shoulder again.

"She's not even going to say hello to us." Alana could pick out Clint Barton's voice in a crowd of a thousand people, so when he muttered the words under his breath, she heard him perfectly clear.

"Excuse me," She told Thor, the god taking a step back to let her pass, Alana opened her mouth to retort at Clint, but couldn't get the words out when she saw the redhead who sat beside her supervising officer. Seeing them sitting by one another brought back an onslaught of memories. Her recruitment, her training, the hundreds of missions. The nights they all stayed up watching over each other; be it on the battlefield or in a hospital room. They were her family.

And this was the last time she'd ever get to see them.

Natasha was up and in front of her in the next moment, a gentle hand on the younger assassin's shoulder. "Alana?" The Black Widow's eyes softened, her eyebrows rising in concern, "Are you alright?" Alana swallowed, fully aware that everyone's' eyes were on her.

"Yeah," She nodded, wiping the water from her eyes before looking around at everyone, "I just, I missed everyone." She explained, sending a nod to Bruce Banner, who stood by the bar. The quiet scientist nodded back, offering a soft smile.

The next few minutes Alana spent reconnecting with the rest of the Avengers. She hugged Clint, Bruce, and Sam Wilson, catching up with each man. She and Pepper embraced as well, the two not having even spoken over the phone in almost a year. The CEO and the assassin had never quite hit it off. As Pepper explained how Stark Industries was doing, Alana's eyes scanned the rest of the room.

Thor, Steve, and Tony all stood around the bar while Natasha, Clint, and Sam conversed on the couches.

_They'll be fine without you_. Her mind told her over and over again.

"Alana," She was brought back to Pepper when the CEO put a hand on Alana's arm, "Bucky's outside." She nodded towards the terrace, and Alana's heartbeat picked up.

"Thanks, Pepper. I hope-"

"Go, I understand." She smiled, "He's been worried."

"I'm sorry if he ever came off as harsh." Alana said genuinely. Pepper waved her off.

"He's no Steve Rogers," She laughed slightly, "But he's been very polite, just put Tony in his place a few times." That made Alana smirk, and she made her way towards the doors a moment later.

She shut the double glass doors behind herself, the sounds of the New Year's Countdown drowning out her footsteps against the terrace flooring.

Her eyes found him instantly. His broad figure silhouetted against the city lights, his left hand reflecting the rainbow array of colors. Bucky wore a jacket, but his hands were left uncovered. The cold wind made her shiver slightly, seemingly colder now that she had been inside.

Alana didn't say a word as she approached him; she simply reached for the cybernetic hand once she was a few feet away. Her flesh fingers intertwined with metal as he took it without looking down at her, pulling her to his side. They stood close enough so that anyone looking at them from inside couldn't tell they were holding hands.

"I missed you." Alana told him, her voice just able to be heard over the happenings down below. He looked down at her now, only to see her gaze focused out over the city.

"What was it?" She looked up at him, brown eyes meeting blue, and pursed her lips together as she shrugged.

"I'll tell yah 'bout it later." She had no intention to, but he didn't need to know that. Alana squeezed his hand, tugging on it once before letting go, "Let's get inside, it's cold out here."

Bucky followed without any argument, stuffing his hands lazily into the pockets of his leather jacket. He cleared his throat as he held open the door for her, "Howard's son's an asshole." Alana barked out a laugh at the bluntness of his statement. "I've already told him that too."

"Pepper said you put'em in place." The voices of everyone else carried over them as they stepped inside, Thor's voice booming out as he caught sight of them.

"Metal soldier! Bring Lady Alana and come drink with us!" Alana gave Bucky a look when the dark haired man rolled his eyes.

"Nice nickname." She teased, earning a scowl from him. She forced a smile onto her face to keep back the threatening tears as she followed Bucky over to the group.

* * *

"You took over my room?" Alana swayed slightly as she and Bucky stepped out of the elevator forty minutes after midnight. She wasn't able to physically get drunk, but Thor had brought Asgardian liquor, and that had always done the trick.

Bucky reached out to steady her with a hand over the small of her back, "It was the only one open." He defended himself, sending a glance to the couch, "I'll take the couch." He told her, stopping to watch her walk over to a record player as he stripped off his leather jacket.

Behind her the walls were glass, the curtains pulled back to show New York City still awake and thriving. Her figure was silhouetted against the backdrop, the sight making Bucky run his tongue over his lips.

She fiddled with a vinyl record for a moment, struggling to get it onto the phonograph before the record clicked into place. Alana moved the needle, dropping it and filling the room with notes and melodies Bucky hadn't heard in ages.

Alana faced him again, a sly smirk on her face as she held out her hand. "Come on Sarge, someone told me yah know how to dance." Soft notes floated around, a saxophone starting up before Kay Kyser's voice flowed through.

Bucky let out a soft chuckle, but made his way over to her, taking Alana's hand into his flesh one. Intertwining their fingers, he guided her other hand to rest on his shoulder before resting his metal hand on her side.

"_Oh, but I thought I'd ask you just the same  
What are you doing New Year's  
New Year's eve?"_

He guided her gently, slowly remembering how he used to dance almost every night. When she stepped on his toes, Bucky chuckled again, resting his forehead against hers. "Sorry," She giggled.

"You're fine, doll." He assured her, his voice low. "You're perfect." He added a moment later, grinning as he spun her around once before bringing her back in closer to his body.

"_Wonder whose arms will hold you good and tight  
When it's exactly twelve o'clock that night  
Welcoming in the New Year  
New Year's eve"_

Alana sighed softly, resting her head on his sternum. Bucky placed his chin atop her head, tightening his hold on her just a little, as though she'd slip through his fingers at any moment. She tried not to think too much. Tried to ignore how content she was in his arms, how _happy _she felt in that moment.

If she weren't leaving in a matter of hours, she thought that – just maybe – she'd tell him that she loved him.

"_Maybe I'm crazy to suppose  
I'd ever be the one you chose  
Out of a thousand invitations  
That you'd receive"_

Bucky's voice joined in, the vibrations from his chest running through her. He was a surprisingly good singer. It was something she'd never thought about before.

He guided them around the small open area before the windows, closing his eyes and imagining that he was back in the 1940's. He wasn't in Stark Tower, but a musty old apartment on the west side of Brooklyn. The music playing was being played out on the streets, drifting in from the window he'd left open.

The one thing that he'd keep the same was the girl in his arms. And for that, he couldn't be back in his glory days.

For that, he didn't wish he was back in the forties. Bucky was happy right where he was.

"_Come on boy, what are you doing?  
Will you take me with you?  
Come on now, oh, oh yeah  
Yeah, what are you doing?"_

The music drifted away, Bucky opening his eyes as the record played a continuous _duh, duh, duh, _the needle bouncing on empty track. Alana stepped backwards, bringing his full attention down to her by placing a hand along his jawline.

His darkened eyes searched hers briefly before they simultaneously leaned in, their lips meeting softly. As they pulled apart, she rested her forehead against his, "You gunna dance with other girls while I'm gone?" She half-teased. Bucky hummed, the noise coming from the back of his throat.

"Only dance with my best girl." He told her, tilting his head slightly again to kiss her. His lips were soft against hers, tasting only slightly of the liquor they had both consumed in the past hour. She pulled away slightly and Bucky kissed her forehead.

"Do you trust me?" He pulled his head back to look down at her, a quizzical expression covering his sharp features.

"You know I do."

Alana leaned in closer, placing her mouth directly by his ear before whispering to him, "Don't believe everything you hear, Bucky." He held his breath, not knowing what she meant, or why she was telling him this, but he nodded regardless. It felt like the right thing to do. "Just don't."

He didn't have to sleep on the couch that night, instead falling asleep with Alana wrapped in his arms, her head on his chest. He didn't have any nightmares that night, but when he woke up later that morning, it was alone.

Alana was gone.

* * *

January, 1st

Paris, France

* * *

She had written Barnes on the bottom.

Her face hidden beneath the hood of her sweatshirt as she fumbled with a brass key she held in her hand. If anyone asked, she'd never admit that she'd cried over the whole situation. About how fucking unfair it all truly was.

Her eyes were still red-rimmed though.

Below her, the clear river waters flowed freely, left unfrozen by its constant movement. Alana made her way to the edge, opening the lock and hooking it around a wire in the fencing. She paused, turning the lock over again to read the surname she had written in silver sharpie.

For a moment, she allowed herself to think of how it could have been. She could have stayed with him. She could have moved in with him. She could have loved James Buchanan Barnes.

Sometimes she thought she already did.

Her eyes closed for a brief moment, ran her thumb over his name once more before closing it. She held her hand out over the river, the key held tight inside her fist.

"Мне жаль." Her hand opened and she watched the key splash into the waters below, the sun glinting off the metal as it sank to the bottom and out of sight.

He was just another secret to lock away.

Just another person she would have to forget.


	24. Chapter 23

**Thanks for all the reviews everyone! They mean a lot!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything in this but Alana **

* * *

_"Don't forget me, don't forget me. I wouldn't leave you if you let me." _

_Trouble (Stripped) - Halsey_

* * *

They told Clint first. He was, after all, her supervising officer.

He had been sitting in his office, twirling a pencil between his thumb and index finger, his boot clad feet propped atop the desk when the door opened. They hadn't even knocked.

They were two agents Clint had never seen before, and their solemn faces had told him something was wrong right away.

The pencil had fallen from his fingers, clattering onto the desk as the taller of the two agents held out a manila folder. The archer had taken his feet off the desk before accepting the file, his eyebrows drawing together, "What is this?" He asked, his voice quiet.

He had opened it as the tall agent offered meaningless condolences, "We're very sorry Agent Barton."

Clint's face had gone pale, his jaw going slack as his eyes raked over the words. His brain refused to process the information, his heart refused to believe it.

"As her supervising officer, the duty of informing her immediate family falls to you. The service-"

"Get out." The archer didn't even look up from the file, his knuckles turning white as he gripped it tighter.

"Excuse me?" Clint looked up slowly, both agents ignoring the tears that already made their way down his cheeks.

"Get the fuck out." He spat at them. They nodded then, turning around quickly and exiting. They closed the door behind them, both agents wincing as the lamp that had sat on the corner of Barton's desk shattered against the other side a second later.

"_No!_" His agonizing scream pierced through the door and echoed down the hallway. Inside the office, Clint collapsed onto his desk, his arms folding over his head as sobs overtook his body. Beside him, the file remained open.

_S.H.I.E.L.D Agent Brewster Alana Mercer_

_Killed in Action – Death confirmed January 3__rd__, 2014_

* * *

Natasha Romanoff reacted to the news by going silent. While Clint mourned with anger, Natasha closed herself off. The Russian sat alone in her bedroom for hours, staring blankly at the wall.

Clint tried to get her to go with him when he made the trip out to Kansas, but she wouldn't even talk about it.

The black sedan that pulled up the Mercer's driveway was only occupied by Clint.

Headquarters had told Clint that she would get a full military funeral as well, even though her body had been lost when the jet crashed into the mountains after being shot down.

It wasn't like the movies. Clint simply wore jeans and a sweatshirt, no uniform. His boots crunched against the snow as he made his way up the walkway, dreading what he was about to do.

It was Tommy who answered the door, his eyes going wide as he recognized Clint. They had met only twice before; Alana saying they worked in the government together. Alana's brother started to shake his head when he saw Clint's solemn expression.

"I'm sorry, Tommy." Clint's voice caught at the end. A sob instantly ripped up Tommy's throat, the man sinking to the ground, his hands covering his face to try and hide the tears. Clint looked up at the sound of footsteps to see Paula Mercer standing underneath a doorframe.

"Who are you?" She asked, her voice slightly panicked as she glanced at Tommy, "What's going on?"

Clint swallowed the lump in his throat, "I'm Clint Barton. Your daughter was an agent for S.H.I.E.L.D for the past eight years." He paused as Paula's face paled, "I was her supervising officer and so it's my responsibility to inform you that she was killed in action two days ago." Clint looked away, focusing on the ground, "I'm sorry for your lose."

* * *

Tony Stark refused to believe what he was told.

Pepper Potts broke down in tears.

Bruce Banner sank to the ground, shaking his head as he vigorously wiped away the tears.

Thor didn't say a word, simply walking out of the room.

Steve Rogers waited until he was alone in his room before he started sobbing.

And Bucky?

Bucky punched through a wall. Bucky screamed at the top of his lungs. Bucky yanked at his hair as tears streamed down his face.

* * *

They announced her death on television as well, revealing everything that was ever hidden about her.

How she was an Avenger. How she helped Captain America. How she saved the world.

A week after her death, her funeral was held. Donning black suits, Steve, Tony, Clint, and Bucky all carried in the empty coffin, an American flag draped over the top.

It was for closure, someone had explained, the coffin aspect.

Despite the depressing aura that surrounded Arlington National Cemetery, the sun shone brightly. It reflected off the snow, the cold air making the attendees shiver.

Clint sat beside Natasha, the two holding hands in an attempt to stay more grounded. Barton had to say some words though, and so after the pastor finished his speech on soldiers having a special place in heaven, he stood up, taking long, calculated strides to the podium.

The archer tugged at the cuffs of his jacket, taking a deep breath as he looked out over the sea of people who had come. His eyes found Alana's immediate family: Tommy and Paula, her cousins and their children, her grandparents. He also spotted Bucky, who sat rigidly between Sam and Steve.

The man had dark circles underneath his eyes and he stared openly at the coffin Clint now stood behind.

The archer cleared his throat once, "I'd like to start off by saying how she would've hated that soldiers going to heaven piece." Natasha's mouth twitched upwards slightly. "Alana Mercer was still a kid when I met her. I recruited her, actually. Saw something in'er that stood out." Clint paused, remembering the teenager he had first met on the South side of Boston, "She was special from the beginning. Time went by and Nat and I trained'er. Alana always tried harder than anyone. Put in more effort, more time than any other recruit on the base. But she had a helluva spirit." He made eye contact with her grandfather, holding the old man's gaze, "I think it's what Boston does to people. But whatever it was, she advanced. Wasn't too long before we were taking her out on simple missions." Clint looked down at the podium, gripping the sides of it with his hands, he had to pause, forcing the lump back down his throat, "Wasn't long before she was considered family to both me and Natasha."

"Now, I'm not gunna tell you her whole resume. That'd take too damn long. But she saved the world, she saved my life on multiple occasions. And she was the last person on this planet who deserved to die the way she did." Clint looked out to find Steve, nodding his head to the Captain. Slowly the super soldier stood up as Clint made his way down from the podium. When they passed Steve clapped the archer on the shoulder.

As he sat down, Natasha placed a gentle hand on Clint's knee. He looked over at his partner, holding her gaze as she nodded softly.

Everyone went silent when Captain America cleared his throat. To his own surprise, Steve's voice came out surprisingly strong, "Alana was my first friend coming outta the ice." He told those gathered, "I woke up and she was sittin' in the corner, just watching. She wasn't supposed to be there, they were goin' to trick me into thinkin' I was still in the forties. But she made a different call, Alana made a different call a lot." He shook his head and chuckled, "To tell the truth, she wasn't very good at following orders." The crowd laughed, "But she was good with people. She understood people. Treated me as a regular guy, as Steve Rogers rather than Captain America. And I think that's what made her real good at what she did. She was genuine and didn't sugarcoat anything. If you befriended Alana, you had a friend for life." Steve paused, the whole world sounding as though it was silent as the crowd waited for him to continue. His next words came out softly, "There aren't many people in the world who'd come out after being imprisoned for over six months and their first words are asking how you're doing." He looked up, though he didn't really see the crowds.

Steve saw Alana standing before him, almost fifty pounds underweight with tubes sticking out of her body. Her eyes were bloodshot and – despite her advanced healing – she had open gashes all over her exposed skin. Through it all, she had only been concerned with how he'd been doing while she was gone.

His gaze came back into focus on the casket. The flag draped over. Captain Steven Rogers drew himself up taller, standing at attention for a moment before lifting his hand in a salute. Movement caught his eye and when Steve looked up, Sam and Bucky had stood as well, both veterans saluting the fallen agent.

The ceremony ended with Clint and Natasha presenting Alana's family with the flag. The empty coffin had been lowered into the ground, only a small headstone marking the spot.

_Brewster "Alana" Mercer_

_S.T.R.I.K.E Team: Delta_

"_Phoenix"_

_April 16, 1987 – January 3__rd__, 2014_

People cleared out quickly after that, filing out in silence. Some people offered condolences to Paula and Tommy; the ones who knew Alana's true story offered condolences to Clint and Natasha.

In the end, Steve and Bucky were the last ones standing by her grave. The two men who could now live a life in the current century because of the friend they had both lost. Bucky stood silently, his arms crossed over his chest as he stared down at the headstone. Five words rattled around in his hand over and over again:

"_Don't believe everything you hear." _

Steve placed a gloved hand on Bucky's shoulder, "Hey."

"It doesn't make sense." Bucky's words came out monotone as he continued to struggle keeping back the tears, "She wasn't supposed to die."

"We never think anyone's supposed to die." Bucky didn't comment, instead he just pulled his arms closer to his body, Steve's hand falling from his shoulder as the blonde mirrored his friend's position. Steve pretended Bucky's small rejection of comfort didn't bother him, instead choosing to ask a question that had pestered him for days, "Were you two…" he trailed off.

"Kissed'er two weeks ago." Steve looked over at Bucky, his eyebrows raised, "She was it, man. I could feel it."

"I'm sorry, Buck."

"Don't say you're sorry. Steve, you lost your best friend. Again." Steve didn't know what to say to that. "Sorry I'm not who I used to be."

"You're still Bucky. I'd still rather have you guardin' my back than anyone else." Bucky looked over at Steve then, "Remember when you made me ride the Cyclone at Coney Island?"

"You threw up everywhere."

"Yeah, that's not the point. Point is you were a jerk but still my friend. You'll always be my best friend, no matter what you do."

The two looked at each other, Bucky looking away first, his lips twitching up slightly despite the situation. "Till the end of the line."

* * *

Same Day

Location: Classified

* * *

"We're going to make you better." The words were whispered into her ear as they forced her to sit in a chair, metal bondages strapping down her wrists and ankles.

A helmet was fixed to her head, blinding her from the outside world and sending wave after wave of agonizing pain through her entire body. She didn't even try to hold back the screams. They echoed off the walls, amplified ten-fold given the small dimensions of the room.

They were almost non-stop for days.

There would be small breaks, where the helmet would come off. Her eyes would be bloodshot and unfocused, her brain struggling to comprehend what was happening. During those times, she would listen to what they said about her.

She was being made stronger, physically and mentally.

One man suggested they cut off her arm, reminding everyone how well Asset 17's appendage had worked to their advantage. The group working on her seriously considered the idea for hours. In the end, they decided to hold off, wait and see how much the additional training was going to help before they cut off any limbs.

She felt like an item. Sitting in silence as they chattered on and on.

It was day three of 'improving' her that she snapped, her hands tightening into fists before she lashed out at the nearest Hydra doctor.

The bond that had been holding her down snapped as though it was only paper, her fist slamming into the man's head a moment later. He fell to the ground instantly in a dead heap; his skull having imploded into his brain.

Alana stood with her hands clenched into fists, her chest rising and falling with each deep breath she took. The other doctors all stared.

Tense moments ticked by, her eyes looking between the men dressed in white medical gowns. She wasn't any taller, didn't look any bigger than she had before, but the changes had been internal.

Her gaze fell to the floor as she waited for someone to say something. Her mind drifted, wondering what was happening, how everyone back in New York felt.

She shoved those thoughts away, locking them behind sealed doors. She had one purpose now, to follow Hydra orders. Alana hated who she was on the inside for it, and so she ignored that part. She turned her internal eye away and didn't even glance at what she was becoming.

"Send her out." One of the doctors finally spoke up, his bald head nodding as he approved his own words. "Harris, go tell Gasphar she's ready."

* * *

Twenty four hours later the S.H.I.E.L.D headquarters hidden in Washington DC exploded into millions of fragments. In total two hundred and fifty seven people were killed.

Clint found himself looking at security camera footage for hours, growing increasingly frustrated as he saw no one suspicious. No clues as to who was behind the attack. Tony had watched for a while with the archer, his eyes narrowed as he kept pausing and zooming in on faces that proved futile in providing any sort of lead.

After three hours the billionaire had slammed his hand down on the table, rising up from his seat and running an aggravated hand through his hair. "What blew the place sky high then? A ghost!?"

* * *

**Let me know what you thought! You know what would be super awesome? Ten reviews on this chapter would be fantastic, may even get a faster update *hint hint***


	25. Chapter 24

**Thanks for the reviews guys! I've actually had this chapter done for a few days, was going to wait and see if more reviews came in, but I'm really excited about this one and next chapter. Hope you all like it! I highly encourage feedback, though I may not get a chance to post the next chapter until next week, life's busy for the next few days.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of this except for the plot and Alana**

* * *

"Artists like cats; soldiers like dogs" –Unknown

* * *

_Ten months later – November 2014_

_Location: Classified_

* * *

A shrill whistle pierced the cool November air, shattering the silence and disturbing the birds that had been nesting in the nearby fir trees; sending them up into flight. A pair of brown leather boots crunched over the ground as they tread over the thin layer of frost that stuck to the grass. It would all be melted by mid-morning, but for now, without the sun's full rays to warm the small crystals, it remained.

Dull, brown eyes narrowed slightly, studying the vast landscape before them. A moment later, a single breath came out in a white puff as the individual let out a slightly annoyed sigh. A second later, the whistle sounded again, this time followed by a commanding shout.

"Delta!"

Her eyes saw the movement in the tall grasses instantly, her lips pulling up slightly as the grasses swayed apart, the furry bundle bounding towards her.

Alana chuckled at the sixteen month old Doberman pinscher that was suddenly at her side. She patted the dog's head gently, "Good boy."

The two continued on their walk, the dog staying glued to his master's side, glancing up at her every few moments, his tongue lolling out the side of his mouth. He looked so damn happy all the time, and that was what she liked most about her companion.

He made her happy.

It was something she didn't get to feel that often anymore. Alana didn't really feel anything, having mastered the art of shutting off her mind and conscience only a month into her new life role.

It only took five months for her to single handedly bring down almost all of S.H.I.E.L.D. In a way, she found it pathetic on their part. She'd destroyed four of their five main bases worldwide, assassinated twelve of their top agents, and killed over two thousand employees.

The statistics weren't even the worst part of it all. Sometimes, in the midst of a mission, Alana enjoyed herself.

It was sick and twisted, so when she realized it for the first time, she ignored it.

Alana was really good at ignoring herself. She was an even better assassin.

Better than she'd ever been. Hydra had increased her training. Made it harder, taught her new skills. Skills she had never thought would be beneficial to someone in her work.

She was untraceable when she infiltrated buildings, invisible on the cameras, and no one had been able to track her down.

They had tried though.

_The Avengers _had tried, were still trying. Not that they knew it was her, obviously, they still thought she was dead.

One of the Hydra operatives had told her she had a lovely funeral.

Alana had visited her own grave once and if she was able to feel anything at all, she would have been touched by the flowers that had been left by someone.

The feeling of a cool tongue against her hand brought Alana's mind back to the present, and she noticed she'd stopped walking. Delta sat by her side, his ears perked upwards and eyes focused solely on Alana's face.

"You ready to head home?" She asked, grinning again as the dog's butt wiggled on the ground, his docked tail wagging back and forth. Alana jerked her head in the direction of her bungalow, "Let's go."

Delta sprang up, jumping up and down excitedly as he ran out a few feet ahead of her. If she wanted, Alana could match the dog stride for stride in a race back. She chose not to though, wanting to delay getting back to the little house as long as possible. She was due for another assignment, and she had a feeling it would come in today.

Almost an hour later the house came into view. Nestled at the end of a gravel road, it was on the outskirts of the main town. Not many people wandered out this far, which was why Hydra put her here. She could easily get to the base while also remaining isolated, which is how they wanted her to stay.

Stone foundation and walls, the single story building was only four rooms. Alana didn't need much more than that anyways, so she was content with it. As content as someone in her situation could be, at least.

Delta waited patiently as Alana opened the front door, the dog entering the house after his owner and trotting over to his water dish that sat in the kitchen. She shrugged off her jacket, hanging it over the peg by the door and slipping off her boots before making her way further into the house. Alana pressed the power button on the stereo system as she passed by, the sounds of The Beatles filling the air as she made her way towards her bedroom.

Every time she walked into her room, her eyes would find the single picture that stood framed by her bedside. She had tried to put it away, but she always brought it back out in the end. Besides, she had told herself, she could indulge herself in one little reminder of her past life. To help her stay grounded, to keep her from going completely off the deep end.

That's why she kept the picture of Bucky there. It wasn't in very good condition – the frame at least – but it was something. It was the photo she had shown Tommy over a year ago, when he'd asked who James was.

Bucky's face was visible, but a whole corner of the glass that protected the image was covered in dried blood. She had returned to her house after a mission five months ago bleeding profusely, her side having been shot open during her escape.

Alana had held her organs inside with her hand, and then had grabbed the picture as she passed by, collapsing onto the bathroom floor before dragging herself into the shower. She didn't need hospitals really, she healed much faster than she had before Hydra ran all their new tests on her.

She sighed, making her way over to her bed, which was only a mattress on the floor. Atop the thin brown comforter lay a single white envelope. The outside read 'Asset 87' in neat, black cursive writing.

They didn't call her by name. Alana hadn't heard someone say her name in almost a year.

Requests, demands, and orders. That's all she heard. She only spoke when spoken too, only had asked a handful of questions unrelated to missions.

Those questions had gotten her Delta.

When she spoke to civilians she used a different name.

Renata was what the townspeople called her. She only had to speak to a few of them. The shopkeeper when she bought supplies, some elderly people she passed on the streets, and Artem. Artem was an older man – a World War II veteran – who took care of Delta while she was away. He was quiet and polite, didn't ask too many questions, so he never questioned her as to where she disappeared to when she dropped off the dog.

Alana wordlessly picked up the envelope, ripping it open and opening up the paper inside. It was a new assignment. She would be helping improve a security detail for a Hydra laboratory a few hours away from her home. Her eyes scanned over the words, her mind already planning out the best ways to protect the building.

They had reason to suspect attack due to their research, from what? The mission paper didn't tell her, she knew not to ask.

Minutes later and she had a duffle bag open on the floor as she haphazardly threw clothes into it. Delta watched sadly from the doorway, the dog resting his chin atop his paws as he lay on the floor. His normally perked ears drooped down.

He knew she was leaving. When Alana looked over at him, she frowned. She squatted down on the balls of her feet, resting her elbows on her knees. "I'm sorry you can't come too." She told the dog, whose eyes lifted slightly as she spoke to him. Alana wiggled her fingers and Delta pushed himself up, trotting over to her and pressing his boxy head against her chest. "That's a good boy." She stroked his short fur, grinning as he licked her face once. "I'll be back before you know it," She promised, the dog looking at her as though he understood each word, "I'll only be in-" She sat back on her butt, reaching over her shoulder to grab the mission paper off her bedside table.

Her eyes raked over it again, the location of the base hidden within the text. Alana tapped the paper when she found it, "Sokovia."

* * *

_Two months later – January, 2015_

_Location: Brooklyn, New York_

* * *

Bucky's gloved fingers drummed against the handlebars of his motorcycle as he waited at the intersection of Kings and Ditmas for the traffic light to change from red to green. A car eased to a stop in the lane beside him, making Bucky glance over.

The driver of the Toyota gave him a strange look – most likely because he rode a motorcycle in January – but Bucky ignored it, turning his gaze back ahead of him to the road. He had tried driving cars, S.H.I.E.L.D had offered to buy him one, but Bucky strongly preferred the bike. He felt too confined in a car. He liked to feel the wind around him, even if it was almost ten degrees outside.

Bucky stayed pretty warm in just a sweater and leather jacket. A hat and wool mask kept his face from getting frostbite.

He had learned the hard way that he could still get that.

The light blinked from red to green, and Bucky picked his foot up off the plowed asphalt and set off towards his destination. The motorcycle rumbled underneath him, the wheels getting good traction despite the snow they rolled over.

Tony had come up with them after Bucky insisted he still ride the bike, even when the roads were snow-covered.

In the past year the two had become friends.

Bucky had become friends with most of the Avengers. They had welcomed him in after Alana's death, everyone too in shock to worry about if he was a threat or not. Mourning had brought them all closer together.

Steve practically had his best friend back. Bucky had regained almost all his old memories over the past year. He and Steve were often assigned missions together as a tag team. They worked together flawlessly, just like they had in World War II.

Bucky turned the bike down a narrow alleyway, the snow covering the white parking lines. He knew where they were, and parked the bike in its usual spot before heading to the buildings side door. The metal door creaked as it closed behind him, and Bucky took the hat and mask off his head, tousling his black hair before making his way up the concrete stairwell.

His footsteps echoed and he fished his cell phone out of his pocket as he climbed up the flights of stairs. Bucky flipped it open, his lips pulling to the side slightly at the background picture he'd never had the courage to change.

Alana's face starred back at him, her eyes as piercing as ever as she seemingly looked into his soul. Her hair was short, her lips pulled upwards, almost into a smile.

Bucky let out a breath. It had been over a year since he got the news. He felt his mood slipping downwards and quickly flipped his phone shut, focusing on climbing the last flight of stairs to the fourth floor.

Once there he pushed open the next door, stepping into the hallway and making his way to the third door on the left. He reached his metal hand into his jacket pocket, digging out the key ring that held the key to apartment before unlocking the door and letting himself inside.

His nose scrunched up as a distinctly burnt smell wafted over from the kitchen. Bucky pulled off his boots and jacket, leaving them in their proper places by the door before making his way further into the apartment.

"You couldn't cook seventy years ago, what makes you think you can now?" Bucky rounded the corner to find Steve scrapping blackened food into the garbage can. The blonde looked up at Bucky's voice, shrugging his shoulders.

"I'll get it eventually." He said, watching as Bucky sat down on one of the bar stools, his brown eyes watching the results of Steve's failed cooking fall into the trash. He didn't understand how cooking could be so hard for Steve.

"It was a super soldier serum, not a super chef serum." Steve's answering look that he threw Bucky told his friend that he didn't find the joke funny. Bucky put his hands up in mock defense, "Okay, sorry, you just keep on ruining our cookware. I'll open some windows." He pushed himself off the stool, striding over to the living room and pushing two of the windows open a crack in order to let out the burnt stench. "How'd you not set off the smoke alarms?"

Steve stepped off the trashcan peddle, letting the lid fall down before going over to the sink, "I turned them off." He said simply, turning on the faucet to rinse out the frying pan. After a second, he held it up for Bucky to see.

Bucky shook his head, "Toss it." He told Steve, seeing the burn marks that wouldn't be coming out. "Can we please just let me do all the cooking?"

"Pizza gets pretty boring after a week when you're sent out."

"Mix it up, get some different toppings. You're not allergic to everything anymore."

"No, but-"

Bucky snapped his flesh fingers together, pointing at the super soldier, "Invite Barton over, he loves pizza."

"Barton's usual on call."

"Then Tony."

"I still don't get how you guys are friends."

"Sorry, he just likes me more than you." Steve didn't reply to that, "If you told me you were cooking I would'a brought you my leftovers."

"How'd that go?" Steve asked, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against the doorframe to the living room, watching as Bucky sat down a fabric armchair. "Dinner." He clarified.

"Steak was great." Bucky joked, his lips turning up into his smirk. A stern look from Steve had it falling a second later. It was something else Bucky had started doing, hiding behind jokes and sarcasm.

"You know what I mean."

Bucky let out a breath, his shoulders sagging down. "It was good. Tommy told me to tell you he says hi." Steve nodded his head.

"How's he handling everything?"

"How'd you think?" Bucky challenged, rolling his eyes a moment later, "He fuckin' misses her. Obviously, but he's gettin' better. I told yah he packed up her apartment three months ago, yeah?"

"You did."

"Said he hadn't heard from HQ on if he could keep it or not." Bucky leaned back in the chair, propping his feet on top of the oak coffee table. Steve's face took on a thoughtful expression.

"S.H.I.E.L.D doesn't have enough staff to deal with it." He pointed out, "There're only a few teams left, the Playground's still standing."

"Jarvis find anything in the latest footage?" Bucky asked, "Where'd they hit?"

"Safe house in Holland. Killed nine agents, stole some files off their hardware."

"They keep the building standing this time?" The Avengers had narrowed it down to one person doing Hydra's work. A specialist that managed to remain undetected. Sometimes they burned the buildings to the ground, other times they left it standing. Bruce Banner had pointed out how all the safe houses were left standing, the major facilities either burned down or an explosion was set off.

Their specialist never cared who got killed in the crossfire.

Steve nodded his head, "Still up. There's a team scanning for prints, maybe they slipped up." Steve looked over Bucky's head, out the window to gaze over Brooklyn.

He liked their apartment. They had been living there for the past ten months together; Steve couldn't stay in his old apartment. Alana had helped him find it, helped him move everything in.

The memories had been too much for him to handle.

Bucky didn't have anywhere to live, and S.H.I.E.L.D didn't want him living by himself just yet. So moving in with Steve had been the best option. Getting a new apartment in their old hometown was just a bonus.

They were both used to the same furniture, so it had an older feel. Nothing too modern, nothing too extravagant. It was simple, and Bucky and Steve liked it.

"What if-" Bucky was cut off by the shrill ringing of Steve's cell phone. The super-soldier lifted his head up more, glancing around in search of the device.

He found it on a shelf near the bookcase, swiping it up and flipping it open without even looking at the number, "Rogers." Bucky watched as Steve frowned, his eyebrows drawing together as the person on the other line spoke quickly. A moment later, the blonde's eyebrows nearly met his hairline. "Really?" He asked incredulously, "Where?" More rushed speaking, too fast and too quiet for Bucky to make out every word. Steve scoffed suddenly, "You're going off a damned hunch?"

"_Captain!" _Bucky heard that one loud and clear, letting out a laugh that earned him a glare from Steve.

"Sorry, okay. I'll be there." Bucky perked up, Steve glanced at him, "Yeah, he's here." A pause, "I'll let him know."

Steve flipped his phone shut a second later, and for a few moments, he didn't say anything.

"Where's the mission?" Bucky asked, knowing that's what is was.

"Austria. Security camera caught a shot of someone dressed in black just outside the safe house in Holland after everyone was killed. Eighty-seven percent match on the figure in Austria was just confirmed."

"So people travel?" Bucky pointed out, confused as to why this figure match caused so much alarm.

"There's another – a smaller – training facility just outside the capital. They think they're targeting there next. It's our first lead to this bastard we've ever had, they want me in to trail'em and take'em out."

"To kill?"

"Dead or alive, they said I make that call."


	26. Chapter 25

Thanks for the reviews everyone! I have a few announcements, so you may have noticed I deleted a story. I just couldn't get past the block and it was really really annoying me so in a fit of frustration it was deleted. Other news, I started another story. Let me know if you want me to post it now or wait, I may write a few chapters just to make sure I don't get stuck with it, but I'm really excited about it! Hope you like this chapter, remember to let me know what you think. Ten reviews gets a faster update.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything

* * *

_"When the person you'd take a bullet for is behind the trigger." –Fall Out Boy_

* * *

Location: Salzburg, Austria

* * *

"This a fucking terrible idea." Her words came out with a biting edge as she mumbled to herself, her breath warming her own face underneath the mask. Alana had just finished giving her mission report when she was told she was being sent straight out again. If she'd had the courage to argue, she would've pointed out that the space between missions was critical in no one finding her.

No one in Hydra had apparently thought of that, so they'd sent her to Salzburg.

It was her third day in the city, Alana having spent the first two staking out the training center. She memorized guard patterns, figured out all the access codes, and found the outside electrical box. The rest would be simple.

Should be, she told herself.

Alana glanced around, scanning the cobblestone streets for any signs of people around before heading down a narrow alleyway.

She could see her breath through the black fabric with each exhale and she took a moment to zip her black jacket up more before jumping onto a steel ladder to her left. Alana paused halfway up, listening to the silence of the night until she was sure no one was around.

Not many were awake at one in the morning.

Seconds later and she was swinging herself onto the rooftop of the training facility and making her way across. She could see the skylight through which she had chosen to enter the building when she froze in her tracks.

Alana had heard the rustling of fabric. Her mind went numb as it registered the sound of something flying through the air. She wheeled around, thrusting out a hand just in time to catch the vibranium disk that had been thrown at her.

She didn't even need to think once she started to fight. Not about how she knew they'd find her with missions so close together. Not about how she'd have to abandon this mission. And not about how Steve Rogers was standing on the other end of the roof.

The super soldier wore his Captain America uniform, and he stood in shock as he went through déjà vu. In the darkness he couldn't make out the target's face, but he watched her eyes narrow a split second before she launched his shield back at him.

Steve grunted as it slammed into his chest.

Alana quickly drew her pistol, firing off two quick shots at the Captain, who got his shield up in time to deflect them, sprinting towards her as he did so. Steve took note of her features. The assassin was clearly female, shorter than himself, broad shouldered, black hair that was pulled up into a ponytail.

Steve launched himself at her, throwing a punch at her stomach. Alana dogged it easily, ducking down to also avoid his follow up move with his shield. As his other arm was extended Alana threw her foot up into the air, landing a blow to his side that made him wince in pain.

He hadn't expected so much power behind the kick. Steve's side ached instantly – a rib cracked - but he countered right away, faking a step left before throwing a punch at her. In the next instant she had swiped the knife she had on her side up into her hand. Steve back peddled, holding up his shield to block her now constant swings at him. She was faster than him, and the super soldier let out a hiss of pain as she sliced his left bicep, ripping through his uniform.

Alana was prepared for his instant retaliation, quickly dropping to the ground to hook a foot around his ankle before yanking the super-soldier off balance. Her gun was drawn in the next second, her narrowed eyes staring down the muzzle at his face. A light shone behind her, darkening her exposed features from Steve's view.

All he saw was the gun pointed at him. She hesitated for a moment, then wrapped her hands around the trigger. The shot shattered the silence, a moment later the sound of the bullet ricocheting off the vibranium shield followed.

Alana went to dart to the side, but even with her enhancements, she wasn't faster than a bullet. She felt it go in her stomach from the front and leave her body from her backside. The pain was excruciating, even for her, but Alana stayed silent, her eyes widening in shock.

Her past twelve months of training kept her from grabbing the wound, instead keeping a grip on her gun. The wound gave Steve just enough of an opening to jab his shield upwards, slamming the edge of it into her face.

The impact sent her mind reeling, her grip loosening on the gun. She struck out at him blindly, landing a punch to his jaw and feeling the satisfying cracking on bone as she made contact. The shield again came down a second later, this time hitting her in the stomach, right where she was just shot.

_Low blow, asshole_.

Alana collapsed to the ground, Steve keeping his shield pressed against the wound. Blood pooled around her, and it was then Steve realized the bullet had gone right through. His eyes hardened, as he reached towards her.

She knew this was it, that she was practically captured. Alana knew the plan if she got captured, but they'd made it clear that getting captured was the last thing she should let happen.

That's why they gave her the pill. In a last ditch effort she quickly brought her forearm to her mouth, teeth clamping around the tear away pocket.

Steve slammed her arm back down, ripping the pocket off before opening his hand to stare at the cyanide pill that Hydra always so famously used. He glared down at her, just starring for a moment before bringing his fist up and punching her in the temple.

Her head slammed into the ground, and Steve masked his shock when she lifted her head up again, lifting a gloved hand to wrap it around his throat.

She was strong, he'd give her that. Steve instinctively held his breath, kept his shield against the bullet wound, and punched her again, this time his fist connecting with her head with as much force as he could muster. She was unconscious instantly, and it was then that he softened up with the shield, reaching around her head with his other hand to unhook the mask.

Steve's jaw went slack as it fell away. She didn't look exactly the same: her hair had grown out and was dyed, there were dark circles under her eyes, and stress lines that hadn't been present before were there, but he still recognized her. He couldn't believe it, but he was starring right down at her.

The Captain brought a hand to his earpiece, holding down the button before speaking slowly, "I need a chopper, and a medic. Get all of the Avengers to Fridge in the next twelve hours."

* * *

Thanks to the consistent beeping of a heart monitor, Alana knew she wasn't dead. Although she did have one hell of a headache. She opened her eyes, taking in the room around her.

Grey walls, white tile floor. A clock was mounted on the wall across from her, and when she looked down, Alana found her midsection wrapped, two IV's stuck into her arm.

If her wrists were strapped down, she would've taken them out. An eyebrow cocked upwards, Alana balling her left hand up into a fist before slowly pushing against the metal bond that held her down. It creaked, a low, groaning sound as the metal protested her efforts.

Just as she thought it was about to snap, a low deep sounded, electricity surging through her body from her wrist a moment later. She didn't even flinch at the pain, but she stopped trying to break free.

Instead, she chose to listen. Her eyes glazing over as she focused on what she could hear beyond the beeping of the medical machines. It took a second, but then she found it.

Footsteps from the other side of the door, meaning there must be a hallway. But those didn't interest her.

The voices did.

Her head slowly turned to face the seemingly bare wall to her right. After a moment of her staring, the voices immediately quieted.

"Can she _hear us?_" She smirked, "_Holy shit." _

There was silence. The sound of a door closing. More footsteps.

And then the door to her room opened. Alana tore her gaze away from the wall to watch as Natasha entered the room. She doesn't know what she was expecting to feel, after not seeing and speaking to the Russian in over a year, but Alana didn't feel anything.

Natasha's eyes were wide as she starred down at Alana. "Теперь ты в безопасности." (You're safe now.) She said, her voice barely above a whisper. In response, Alana lifted her arm against the bonds that held her down until she was shocked again. Natasha's gaze diverted to the floor. "It's protocol."

_No_, Alana knew what protocol was, and this wasn't it. This was how S.H.I.E.L.D treated their biggest threats.

Natasha watched as Alana's eyes seemed to glaze over, the younger assassin's thoughts wandering, her mind disconnecting from a situation which usually resulted in physical pain. Drawing away from feeling was an automatic precaution for Alana.

Natasha's gaze softened when Alana continued to stare into empty space, seeming to not see what surrounded her. "Alana?" The red head didn't get a response. She took a few steps closer, "Alana?"

The younger woman didn't seem to even hear her. Natasha masked her face, her jaw setting before her next words came out, "Mission report."

Alana's eyes instantly snapped over to meet Natasha's, her mouth opened automatically to respond before it snapped shut. Her new training took over as she studied the red-head intently.

The Russian pulled out one of the plastic chairs that sat nearby, taking a seat in it and crossing her arms over her chest. Alana noted that she wore her uniform.

"Talk to me." She said softly, a gentle tone that she'd always used when Alana had first started at S.H.I.E.L.D, when she was still weak. In a way, Alana guessed that she was weak again.

She remained silent.

"We don't know what happened to you, but we can fix it."

Alana wanted to laugh in Natasha's face at the absurdity of the statement. Her expression didn't change at all on the outside. Natasha kept talking – interrogating – her.

"Steve's a wreck." She told her, "Finding you, after he'd beat you up like that," She shook her head, "You know how he is." The redhead glanced at Alana's bandaged body, "He's here. Everyone's here." She paused for a moment, for once she wasn't able to read Alana, couldn't tell what her protégé was thinking. "Bucky's here."

A flash of something went through her eyes, an emotion that Natasha couldn't place, but she leapt at it, trying to draw it out more. "Shoulda seen him after they told us you died. Guy didn't talk to anyone for _days. _Beat the shit outta some walls and punching bags. Kept telling us you couldn't be dead. We all pretended we couldn't hear him crying over it at night."

Natasha stopped when Alana stayed stoic.

Neither of them said anything for the next hour. It would've lasted longer, but Natasha couldn't take it. The starring, the not speaking. She pushed back from her seat, standing up and making her way to the door. She paused, looking back at Alana for a moment.

"мы любим тебя." (We love you.)

* * *

Doctors came a while later. Around two in the afternoon according to the analogue clock that hung on the wall, ticking away each second, every minute that Alana sat strapped down to the table.

They didn't take off the bonds, simply unwound the wrap around her torso. She couldn't bite back the smirk that played on her lips when they starred – wide eyed and in awe – at her almost completely healed stomach.

Sure, internally she was still injured, her head still ached and there was a rather impressive bruise coloring the left side of her face, but she'd only been there for a day.

The air around her was suddenly bustling with activity. Doctors making orders of "Draw some blood" and "Run tests." This test and that test and names she didn't know or care to know, all she knew was that she was their lab rat. A fun new toy to dissect and figure out the inner workings of.

But at the end of it all a familiar face once again entered the room.

As per usual, Bruce Banner looked completely out of place. He came in alone, after the rest had left, and stood awkwardly in the middle of the room. Hands clasped behind his back, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

Unsure, uncomfortable, not knowing what to say. Alana's mind automatically took note of it all. She expected a speech, another round of questions of why she wasn't dead. But Bruce didn't give her that, which shouldn't have surprised her, but she'd forgotten what most of them were like.

She'd shut that part of her down a long time ago.

He cleared his throat, taking a few tentative steps towards her, "If I take off those bonds you're not going to kill me, are you?" His voice was so polite and in a way innocent, that she actually furrowed her eyebrows together. Bruce let out a nervous chuckle, his mouth skewing off to the side slightly, "They said I'd be fine, but I just want to double check."

She just stared back at him. Bruce ran a hand through his hair.

He was nervous. She noted that in the back of her mind.

"You don't want to kill me, right?" A question. A simple thing that she hadn't been asked in over a year. To make it even harder for her mind to wrap around it was an opinionative one.

What did she want to do?

She wanted her damn arms to be free, for starters. And Bruce said he could take them off.

"No." Her answer came out sharper than Doctor Banner thought it would, and he was surprised she actually spoke at all. He wasn't sure if she was even listening to him.

"That's good." He said simply, reaching over and pressing a button on the side of her bed, the metal bonds retracting instantly. Alana watched Bruce's posture stiffen, noticed the way he leaned away from her, his body weight shifting to his heels as though he was prepared to run backwards – towards the door. When she didn't move, he relaxed slightly.

Her head snapped to the door as it opened again, two armed S.H.I.E.L.D agents entered the room, their weapons trained on her. "We're moving you to a different room."


	27. Chapter 26

**Thank you all for the favorites, follows and especially the reviews! **

**My thoughts and prayers to all those in Paris and everywhere else affected in the attacks that occurred yesterday. There is nothing wrong with a single religion, but there are things wrong with people who believe the only way to fix our world is through the murder of innocent people and acts of war. **

* * *

"_Never, never be afraid to do what's right, especially if the well-being of a person or animal is at stake. Society's punishments are small compared to the wounds we inflict on our soul when we look the other way." –Martin Luther King Jr._

* * *

She paced for hours.

Back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth. To the point where the guards monitoring the live security feed thought she'd wear down the concrete floor.

She was jumpy, agitated, and on edge the whole entire time. Whenever something creaked her head would snap up, eyes blazing as she scanned the whole room for a threat. They could see the tension in her shoulders, watched it bunch up with each passing minute.

Those minutes passed into hours, and eventually, to everyone's relief, she sat down. Not on the bed that was provided, but on the cold floor.

She sat crossed legged, her elbows resting limply atop her thighs, fingers twisting together over and over again as a distraction. Other than that, she didn't move. Starred emotionlessly at the junction of the floor and wall.

Clint and Natasha never left the security room. The two members of STRIKE Team: Delta not allowing themselves to look away from their former partner. In the back of the room sat Bucky Barnes, his arms crossed over his chest as he watched. He didn't say a word, couldn't believe what he was seeing.

She was supposed to be dead.

_Don't believe them. _

Her words echoed through his mind on constant repeat, and he felt like an idiot. This is what she was telling him. She had never been dead, and he'd never thought for a moment that Hydra could've been behind it.

Okay, so that wasn't true. The thought had crossed his mind hundreds of times. But capturing her? Using her just like they had used him? That part he hadn't thought of.

Bucky's eyes narrowed as Alana started to shake on screen. Her hands trembled, the tremors quickly running up to her arms.

"She's cold." He spoke up, his voice harsh. The agents in charge of watching the feed turned in their chairs to look back at him. Bucky raised a challenging eyebrow, "You gunna get her a blanket?" He asked.

"We were told not to interact." The younger of the two told him, his voice wavering slightly.

"Then turn up the heat."

The agent pursed his lips together, "We don't have control of that, Sergeant."

Bucky's metal hand clenched into a fist, and Clint's eyes glanced down at the movement, "Barnes, it's on purpose." His words were cool and calculated. He didn't like it either, but he knew S.H.I.E.L.D's ways better than Bucky did.

"When can I see her?" The metal armed assassin asked, getting a glare from Natasha.

"When they say you can." Natasha was the only one Bucky didn't really get along with. He remembered her, from the Red Room. From all their nights together, all the time they spent together.

But that was years ago, decades. He was different, she was different, and they tended to avoid each other like the plague. Their only common interest now was Alana.

"And exactly who is _they_?" Bucky demanded, "We haven't been told who's in charge here." He shook his head, his grown out hair covering his forehead completely, "I-"

"Parker." The older security agent elbowed his partner in the ribs, eyes glued to the screen. Natasha, Bucky, and Clint all turned to stare. Everyone's face went white at the scene that was unfolding.

Alana's lips were blue, her whole body shaking like a leaf as she ran her hands vigorously through her hair over and over again. Her eyes whipped around the room, and suddenly she stood up and was back to pacing.

Clint shook his head, "They wouldn't make it _that _cold." He muttered, "Something's wrong."

It was only a few seconds later that her knuckles turned white as she clutched her head, her knees buckling as she fell to the ground. The scream that passed her lips shattered the air, and everyone in the room could hear it through the walls.

"_NO!" _It was animalistic, pure panic and fear lacing every note. Her jaw clenched, teeth grating together as her fingers curled in even tighter around her head, clutching it as though it would drain out the spinning she knew Hydra was causing.

She wasn't back yet, hadn't completed her mission. They were letting her know they knew. Her world shifted drastically and she fell completely to the ground, her head smashing against the concrete. Her knees drew up to her chest as she continued to scream.

"_THEY'RE COMING!" _She screamed, the words ricocheting off the walls and making everyone in the security room freeze, "_THEY'RE COMING FOR _ME_!" _

"Let me in there." Bucky growled as the older security guard blocked his way out. His eyes blazed as he took a step closer, knowing he could easily throw the agent aside.

"I can't let you do that."

"I don't need you to _let _me, then." Just as he went to shove the agent aside, the buzzer indicating the cell's door was being unlocked sounded. Bucky whirled around, eyes locking on the screen as he watched Dr. Banner shuffle inside. "Why is _he _in there?!"

"He's already interacted with her." Clint grumbled from his spot standing in the corner, his fingers itching to go see his old charge himself.

In truth, Bruce was the only one she couldn't physically kill.

Inside the cell, Bruce slowly made his way towards Alana, who was still curled up on the floor, tears streaming down her face as she kept her eyes slammed shut.

She looked so small.

The world was slowing down for her, and Alana tried to focus on anything else. So she heard the footsteps. Heard his nervous breathing.

"Hey." She waited, waited until he was right beside her, until he crouched down. Then she opened her eyes, staring blankly up at Bruce Banner, taking in the look of genuine concern on his face and wondering why it was there.

He wouldn't be worried about her.

No one was worried about her. Ever. So his words surprised her, "Are you okay?"

"No."

* * *

Ten hours later and they were trying another interrogation. With a different agent this time, not Natasha. Alana was seated at a table, her wrists encircled by the same special handcuffs that had kept her strapped to the medical bed. She could still move her arms though, she had noted that she could reach out and touch the agent – Agent Nowles – who sat across from her.

"So, Alana." It was strange hearing her own name again, and it took her a moment to realize the agent was speaking to her as he sat down. He folded his hands in front of himself. "I'd like to start by saying this questioning is completely confidential."

"Just between you, me, and the six people on the other side of that wall listening in?" She asked, jerking her head to the left – the fake wall – as she frowned. "How about you don't lie to me?" Her words were harsh, and ones that no one expected. Agent Nowles masked his surprise quite well.

"You're talking." He noted, getting a scoff in response. "Do you mind telling me what happened?"

"I would if you were open to what I have to say." She replied, leaning forward, her elbows resting atop the table, hands open and closer to the Agent. Alana kept eye contact the whole time.

"I'm open." He told her, though she could see it was half-hearted.

"Not enough." She said, his eyes narrowing, "I need you to have an open mind. Completely open and accepting of what I'm about to tell you. Anything I say you need to accept without bias," The more she said, the faster she spoke, the tone drew the agent in. "If you don't have an open mind then you won't believe me and none of this will be worth it."

The almost glazed over look in his eyes was what she had been waiting for, and Alana smirked for a moment as the agent nodded his head. "Alright, how about you start at the beginning."

She moved quickly, jerking her body forwards and resting her palm on the agent's face, "Sleep." Her command was whispered, and it had barely passed her lips before Agent Nowles went completely limp, falling forward and then out of his chair like a sack of wet cement.

Natasha was the one to rush in as the others starred dumbfounded on the other side of the wall. The Russian narrowed her eyes at Alana as she moved Agent Nowles's limp body away from the table. "What did you do to him?"

Alana simply shrugged, "He's perfectly alright. Breathing and everything."

"What did you do?!" Natasha snapped at the younger assassin, losing her cool slightly. Alana clasped her hands in front of herself.

"All you do is ask me questions, ever since I was brought in." She shook her head, looking up and glancing at the clock on the wall. She starred at as she spoke, "Can I ask you a question?" She turned her head to look at the red-head, who remained silent. "Would you die for me?"

The question caught Natasha off guard, her jaw going slack for a moment before tightening. She couldn't look away from Alana, who spoke up again before Natasha could answer, "I've already died for you."

* * *

Tony Stark was overly smug as he sauntered into the cafeteria early the next morning. He skipped past the food line, making his way straight towards the table where the rest of the Avengers sat.

Tony clapped Bucky on the shoulder as he came up behind him, the ex-Hydra assassin flinching at the unexpected contact. "Good news people, I know what's wrong with her."

"Nothing is _wrong _with her." Bucky growled under his breath, glaring at Tony as the scientist sat down beside him. Tony ignored him.

"What?" Clint asked, continuing to push the food on his plate around with his fork. The action drew an agitated look from Steve.

"Alright," Tony rested his elbows on the table, holding up his hands, "Picture this." He grinned at Steve and Clint's annoyed faces. "A microchip that can alter the cerebellum chemical structure in your brain, when-"

"Just get to the point Stark." Steve grumbled.

"Cool it, Grandpa. I'm furthering your education." Tony smirked, "As I was saying, when someone – say a man hundreds of miles away – activates the chip, your thrown off balance, your world shifting and rendering you incapable of controlling your own actions." Tony flipped his hands over and shrugged.

"And you think that's what happened to Alana?" Clint asked skeptically, "How-"

"How would I know?" Tony finished Barton's sentence, making the archer scowl. "Simple. We took a CAT scan while she out." Tony reached down to dig through his pocket, pulling out a crumpled piece of paper, he glanced at Bucky as he smoothed it out, "So to answer you, tin man, there _is _something wrong with her."

Clint, Steve, and Bucky all leaned forward as Tony placed the paper on the table. He circled one part of the brain image with his finger, "That's the occipital lobe, and then right below that is the cerebellum – controls balance and posture, shit like that – but here," He tapped a dark spot on the image, "that's not natural. It was implanted there, don't know when, but see here," Tony pointed out the nerve tracts that ran from the cerebellum to the center of Alana's brain, "Those are also affected. Press of a button and they can render our little princess useless."

Everyone was quiet for a few moments, starring at the images and processing what Tony had just said.

Steve was the first one to speak up, "So, you can deactivate it?"

"No." Stark's answer made Steve's face all and Bucky clench his hands into fists. "Only way to get rid of it is to surgically remove it." Tony's eyebrows came together as he looked back down at the image, "And my guess is they put that in with no intention of ever taking it out."

"But you can try." Bucky spoke up, looking at Tony with hope in his eyes.

"We could, personally I've never done brain surgery but-"

"We'll fly in Dr. Goodman, try and locate Streiten." Clint didn't look up as he spoke, "Natasha can work on that part. Stark," he looked up at Tony, who nodded his head, "You and Banner can oversee the operation."

"Barton it's a good plan, but we don't have clearance." Steve pointed out. The super-soldier was taken aback by the glare the normally jovial archer sent him in response.

"Fuck clearance. If this'll bring 'Lana back then we're doing it. She deserves that."

"She murdered hundreds of-" Steve stopped talking as Clint got up abruptly.

"All do respect Cap, but I don't think you get it." Clint turned his gaze to Tony, "I'll inform Nat, call Doctor Goodman. You know how we can sedate her without physically knocking her out?" He knew that normal sedatives wouldn't work.

Tony shrugged, "I was thinking horse sedatives may work." Clint cracked a small smile, nodding his head.

"What if it doesn't work?" Bucky asked.

"Depends on what they've pumped her up with to improve physical and mental skills. Her cells are different – a lot like yours actually – but hitting the wrong thing." Tony frowned, "Well, it could kill her." Bucky frowned, but looked up at Clint.

In the end, Clint Barton was still her supervising officer. Traitor or not Alana was still a S.H.I.E.L.D agent. Clint still had the authority to make medical decisions for her if she wasn't in the right mind to.

The marksman let out a breath, "We're gunna take that risk." He said firmly, "She wouldn't want to live like this, and I'm not gunna let anyone lock her away for the rest of her life."

* * *

**Thanks for reading! Please review if you would like, it really means a lot to me. Also I published a one shot a few days ago that I wrote really quick. It's AU where Bucky doesn't die during the war and returns back to New York. **


	28. Chapter 27

"_In prison you get the chance to see who really loves you."_

* * *

'_Request Denied' _

Two simple words made the anger surge through Clint's veins. It wasn't fair and it didn't make sense.

But there was nothing he could do about it. The report had come from the highest branch of S.H.I.E.L.D and who was Clint Barton to defy them? The response from headquarters had bothered him so much that – for the first time in a long time – Clint Barton said 'screw you' to the organization and snuck into Alana Mercer's cell in the middle of the night.

He wasn't surprised to find to her awake. Sitting, staring blankly ahead as though she was just a shell.

She sure felt like one.

Clint knew she saw him there. He wasn't hiding, hadn't made any effort to conceal the sound of his footsteps.

"Alana." Her name came out in a breath as Clint made his way forward, not worried about if she was going to attack him. Her eyes shifted, lifting up slightly to look at him. She hadn't known what exactly she had been expecting, but her name spoken in a soft tone wasn't it. Somewhere, in the back of her head, her brain made the connection that Clint wasn't going to hurt her, no matter what she had done in the past year. "You remember me, don't you?"

"They didn't take my memories." He barely recognized her voice. It wasn't the same anymore; lacked the teasing, sarcastic lint to it. Her accent was gone.

She spoke like a machine.

Her eyes seemed to soften, looked almost as though she was pleading when she spoke again, "I know what they put in my head. Take it out."

Clint had never been one to sugar coat anything for Alana. It would make her weak, he knew that. People had to learn how to accept what they were told, especially in their line of work. It was part of being a soldier. But in that moment, he really didn't want to tell her the truth.

The look in her eyes, the begging look of helplessness was all he wanted to go away. The archer had seen it before, in his targets that he was assigned to take out. But this was different.

This was Alana.

But he couldn't think of a way to tell her that would make her feel any better, so he kept it blunt. "Headquarters denied our request to remove it."

Alana's internal wall was built back up in an instant. Clint blinked and there it was, the guarded, haunting gleam. Her eyes narrowed as he kept talking, "The way it's placed, it wasn't made to be taken out. They don't know what would happen when it's removed, the device could detonate-"

"Then I'd die." She cut him off, her voice monotonous. Her head tilted to the side slightly, "And I'd still be better off than I am right now." Her chin lifted then and confusion filled Clint's mind as she grinned, "And you would all lose valuable intel."

"What'd you mean?"

"Base positions, double agents, weapons, security codes. They improved me until I was more machine than human and I don't just memorize all those codes that have to do with S.H.I.E.L.D." The archer's eyebrows rose, "I'm a walking codex and could get you into any HYDRA base on the planet." She smirked, letting out a dark chuckle, "I even know where that stupid scepter is."

"Why're you tellin' me this? Why not Tasha?" Clint crossed his arms across his chest, leaning against the wall and looking down at her.

Alana shrugged, "She always said she had a red leger. I just got to read it."

Clint's shoulders stiffened, "And you think less of her now?" He accused.

Her eyes narrowed dangerously at him, "Of course I don't. I've done so much worse. She's too much like me, and besides, I've always been closer to you." Clint watched her lips tug upwards slightly, "I can read you, there's a reason why you never did the interrogations." They both knew that was true, "She would've left to grab more agents as soon as I mentioned the scepter." Alana paused, her head tilting to the side slightly, "And you're still here."

"They won't believe you."

"Yes, they will." Alana shot back confidently, her hands still hanging limply in her lap, "What's S.H.I.E.L.D going to do? Have the Avengers take out every HYDRA base? It'll take you months to find it. I could tell you in five minutes. The location, the guard patterns, what's inside. I can tell you it all. All S.H.I.E.L.D has is you. I know because I killed everyone else myself."

"So you did all of that?" Clint didn't want to believe all of it was her, "The assassinations, the attacks?"

"It's not hard. Creating a diversion by killing a crowd somewhere else, drawing forces elsewhere and then moving in for the real target in the chaos. Children work best that way, because people try harder to save a child than they do an old man. Keeps them distracted for longer so I could slip in. And blowing up the building, making sure everyone is dead? Blows the live feed, takes away the chances of someone being an eyewitness."

Clint's jaw had gone slack. Alana's tone never changed; it was as though she was telling him what she had for dinner the previous night. It made his stomach tie up into knots. "Alana, stop. You're…" Clint shook his head, "You're scaring me."

She didn't even think of her response before it passed by her lips, "You should be scared of me."

Silence settled between the two of them. Alana still sat on the floor, starring up at Clint, her gaze unwavering. Starring at her then, Clint felt like he was looking at someone else. The woman who looked up at him wasn't Alana. This wasn't who he recruited almost a decade ago. This wasn't the woman who helped reintegrate Steve Rogers into modern day life.

He didn't know her at all. Not anymore. And that scared him.

So Clint left the room without a word.

* * *

Clint Barton stood banging on an office door the next morning. His knuckling rapping endlessly against the wooden surface until he heard the distinct click of the door being unlocked. It swung open to reveal an aggravated Nick Fury.

"What's so important, Barton?" He snapped, glaring as the archer shoved past him into the office.

Not many knew Nick Fury was there – of the Avengers only Clint and Natasha knew – so the director was trying to keep a low profile. Clint whirled around to face him, the archer's eyes blazing in a way that Fury hadn't seen in years. "Override the call." He demanded.

Fury crossed his arms over his chest, his eyepatch rising as he lifted an eyebrow. "What call?"

"You know damn well what fucking call I'm talking about!" Clint snapped, stalking towards Fury and jabbing a finger in his direction, "Alana."

"Right." Nick Fury sighed, "She's not with S.H.I.E.L.D anymore. She's dead in our files, the only active one she has left now is all the documentation of the terrorist attacks she's committed in the past year. We're one bad call away from being shut down and believe me, no one outside of this organization would approve of us helping the world's number one terrorist."

"What if she could help us?" Clint countered quickly.

"Depends what she could do." Fury held up a hand when Clint opened his mouth, "Clint, you can't tell me we can trust her, you don't know-"

"She knows where the scepter is." Fury stood taller at the archer's words, turning so that he could narrow his eye at him.

"Come again?"

"She said she knows where Loki's scepter is."

"Agent Barton, when did you speak with her?"

Clint glanced at the clock that hung above the desk, "Fifteen hours ago."

"I'll just pretend you didn't break the one rule that was put in place. S.H.I.E.L.D would agree if we can get that back." Nick Fury smirked, clasping his hands behind his back before he began to pace, "I'll get the clearance but we don't try to remove it right away. If it short circuits and kills her then she's dead and we don't get any information."

"And that's all that matters to you?" Clint ground out the words, "The information? Not that it's Alana?" Fury stopped in his tracks, turning on his heel to face Clint.

The former director leaned closer to the Avenger as he spoke, "Barton have you looked at her? My daddy used to say something, 'I've lived long enough to see the same eyes in different people'." Fury quoted, Clint's face falling as he remembered why he left the cell the night before, "That woman in that cell. That's not Alana, not anymore. So we're going to do this my way because you can't be in on this job if personal issues are going to cloud your judgement. I told Agent Romanoff the same thing. Here's how it's gunna go: We talk to her, we get the information, we get the scepter, then we get that outta her brain. _If _she survives that then we'll figure out what to do with her."

"She won't give us the information without something in return, especially if we don't take it out right away."

Fury crossed his arms over his chest, looking down the archer who stood defiantly on the other side of the room. "And what do you think she'll want?"

Clint opened his mouth to retort, but he couldn't think of anything right away. Before he'd say out of the cell, but he wasn't so sure. Alana hadn't asked for anything since she'd arrived. She didn't use the bed – he didn't even know if she slept – and appeared content for being held prisoner. But Clint Barton knew her best, even after all that had happened, so after a few moments he knew what would work.

Agent Barton knew what Alana wanted.

"Barnes." He told Fury shortly, "She wants to see Sergeant Barnes."

* * *

**Hope you all liked it! Sorry it's been awhile I had thanksgiving break. I posted a one shot on my profile if any of you want to read that it's also Bucky/OC but it's AU where Bucky doesn't die and comes home from WWII. Remember to let me know what you thought of the chapter!**

**Y'all rock!**


	29. Chapter 28

**Disclaimer: I own nothing**

* * *

_The hardest prison to escape is in your mind._

* * *

She was on edge when they moved her to a new room just days after Clint's illicit visit. Alana spent the first hour simply checking everything around her. What she found confused her. There was a bed, a small table with a deck of cards – which she noted she could use as a weapon – a nightstand and the floor was carpeted.

No cameras. No bugs. They were completely blind to her meanderings.

So Alana just sat on the floor in her usual position: legs crossed, hands limp in her lap, and her shoulders slouched forwards.

It had taken Bucky only a day of watching the footage of her in the other cell to figure out why she always returned to that position. The realization had made his hands ball up into fists until his metal fingers threatened to dig through his palm.

"The chair." He had told Steve that night, "When they put me in the chair that's how they want you to sit. Completely relaxed so they can put the headgear on." He had looked up at Steve with hard eyes, "That's how I sat when I didn't want to remember any of it."

So that was how she sat in the new room. Her mind wandering without the cameras. Because she always felt as though they'd find a way to read her thoughts – they had everything else.

Alana thought about her dog.

It had almost been a month since Alana had dropped Delta off with Arman. The assassin missed her companion. His happiness, the pure joy that spread over his whole persona when she walked into a room.

Alana wondered if S.H.I.E.L.D could get him back for her. He would probably bite whoever picked him up, she mused with an almost grin on her face.

If Hydra hadn't killed her dog and the old man who watched him then maybe she could get Delta back.

Alana was still thinking of her dog when she heard it. A noise that sent her mind reeling back into memories and thoughts and little words being whispered to her as doctors surged waves of pain through her whole being.

"_You're to replace Asset 17."_

"_You were always to follow in his footsteps." _

The vindictive voices mixed with something else, something softer in her mind. A song.

"_Wonder whose arms will hold you good and tight  
When it's exactly twelve o'clock that night  
Welcoming in the New Year  
New Year's eve"_

A single image flashed through her mind: a metal arm.

When Bucky opened the door and stepped through the threshold, she was already starring at him. Their eyes locked and he didn't look away as he shut the door behind him, locking it so no one else could come in.

Alana looked different than she had on the security footage. Her muscles were more defined, her eyes more haunting. But that look was something Bucky had grown used to.

He'd seen it in the mirror before, starring back at him. Bucky felt as though their roles had reversed.

Over a year ago it was Alana to let herself into his cell. Alana to make her way towards him. Alana to slowly coax him into being the man he'd been before.

Now it was Bucky's turn and he didn't have a clue where to begin, or what to say. Thankfully Alana spoke up first.

"When did you give up?" He knew what she meant right away and it made his heart clinch, guilt spreading over him to the very tips of his fingers.

When did he stop looking for her?

"Five months after you left." He knew better than to lie to her.

"I did it for you. I gave away my soul for you and in return all I got was five months of hope that I was still alive."

He couldn't look at her then, so Bucky dropped his gaze to the floor. "I missed you." It barely came out in a whisper, but she had not trouble hearing him. Alana stood up, pushing herself off the floor before making her way over to him, stopping once she was only a few feet away. Bucky looked up, his lips pressed into a thin line.

"When I met you I said I could never understand what you had been through. I get it. The guilt and the pain." She let out a chuckle that made the hairs on the back of Bucky's neck stand on end, "They were even talking about cutting off my arms, but they found a better way. They hung you over my head and whenever I showed the slightest sign of rebelling against them they said they would kill you. They would kill Steve and Tony and I," Her hands came up to cover her face as Alana held back the tears. Before Bucky could step forward to console her she had turned away, striding towards the cement wall and throwing her fist through it.

Cement crumbled underneath her knuckles, the wall breaking and pieces fell, getting lost in the carpeted floor. When she pulled her fist back out it wasn't even bleeding. Her shoulders heaved up and down with each breath, hands now limp by her side.

Bucky made his way over slowly, "You what?" he prompted, his tone low and even.

"Nothing." She breathed out. Alana felt his presence right behind her and it made her stiffen. "If you touch me I will punch you." Her voice was serious but he still let out a laugh.

"You just assume you will." He told her as he moved his metal hand up, "You taught me that, remember?" his lips twitching upwards as the fingers touched her shoulder lightly.

Alana stiffened, her hands balling into fists, but she didn't punch him like she'd said. "See, look at that." She held her breath, waiting for the pain to come. The longer Bucky kept his hand on her, the tenser she became. Taking a chance he took a step forward, leaning forward until his mouth was right beside her ear. "Relax, doll." He whispered, her head drawing back and to the side to look at him.

He was different from what she remembered. Not the same Bucky she had left behind, the one she left behind would never be so forward. He was acting like the Bucky that Steve had told her stories about.

He'd gotten better while she was 'dead'.

Alana supposed she had no right to be angry, he didn't know she was still alive. She stared, studying his impassive expression as he stared right back at her. And then he smirked; the left side of his mouth pulling up slightly as his eyes gleamed.

Her shoulders sagged, as if her subconscious realized she no longer had to stand at attention. "James." If he was surprised by her calling him by his real name, he hid it well. His smirk grew in a smile and even a corner of Alana's mouth tugged upwards.

"You're with me now." He didn't tell her she was safe, he didn't tell her everything would okay. Because they knew better than to tell lies like that. Empty reassurances didn't mean anything to either one of them.

He lifted his other hand, watching her reaction as he slowly placed it on her shoulder. His flesh was warm and she sucked in a breath as he moved it so his thumb was over her pulse. "You're alive." He breathed out in a sigh, his thumb running upwards until it sat under her jaw.

She lifted her chin upwards, watching as Bucky's smile grew even wider. Inside…she suddenly felt nothing. All at once the lightness she had felt was gone.

Her grin fell and then she was stepping away, confusion filling her mind as she left Bucky standing dumbfounded. "Alana?" Her mind didn't register her own name as she ran a hand through her hair.

"Doesn't make any sense. I should be back. I need to get back they'll find me here, they'll kill me. They'll get Clint and Natasha. They could kill Bruce, Tony!" Alana muttered under her breath as she paced. Bucky stood, his jaw slack as he watched her. Her shoulders hunched over as she shook her head back and forth over and over again. "My family. I need to get back home. Delta, he's alone, I need to find him. I left him." She stopped suddenly in her tracks, hands limp by her sides. "_Bucky_."

Bucky straightened at his name, his eyebrows furrowing together. Her head snapped upwards, dark hair flipping over her shoulder. Her eyes flew around the room before landing on him. "They'll kill him!" She told him, her hands suddenly clutching her head as a shudder ran through her.

"Alana!" Bucky strode towards her purposefully, watching as tears began to stream down her face.

"They'll kill Bucky!" She shouted at him, grabbing onto his shoulders once he was close enough. "They'll kill him!" She wailed, her iron grip shaking Bucky slightly as her eyes bore into his.

He didn't understand what was happening right away, but he recognized that she didn't remember it was him. So he just wrapped his arms around her, holding her face to his chest as he shushed her. "They won't kill Bucky." He whispered in her ear before pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

"I can't lose him." She whispered desperately, "I _can't_."

"You won't." He promised, sinking to the ground as her body sagged into his. Alana seemed even smaller sitting in his lap, her fingers now clutched around the fabric of his shirt. After a few moments he chose to ask one question, "Who's Delta?" Alana didn't say anything and Bucky let out a sigh, "Doll, who's Delta?"

"He's my dog." Wasn't something Bucky thought she'd tell him. Alana pulled back, looking up at Bucky. This time, a sad smile spread across Bucky's face when she spoke, "James."

He remembered being like her. Forgetting where he was and then only coming back to not realize something had already happened. Bucky went along with it, "Hey, Lana."

"They let you in." He nodded his head.

"Yeah, they let me in."

* * *

The negotiations were slow going, and it took a week for Alana to lay out her demands in exchange for the scepter's location. In the end Bucky refused to be the one to ask her, she responded the best with him.

She was more like her old self with him out of any of the others she had been reunited with so far. Being her old self wasn't that much either. He would simply show up and sit with her, try and get her to talk about what she'd been through. Alana mostly refused to, said that she didn't need to talk about it.

He didn't push it.

Alana was best with Clint next, so he asked her for her demand list. She gave it to him within a matter of minutes. Three simple things scrawled onto a napkin that her SO had swiped from the dining hall.

_To be moved out of the cell._

_Delta._

_I accompany the Avengers when retrieving the scepter. _

The first two Fury was fine with – a bit annoyed at the dog request, but he accepted it – but the third he had outright refused at first.

"No way." Alana had starred across the table at the man she had thought dead with cold eyes. She had simply shrugged her shoulders before tapping her head with her index finger.

"I've still got this. I get close and they think I'm a threat?" She sighed, "They'll just render me useless."

"Then why go?" Fury had shot back.

"Simple. I want to be sure you get it. I know back routes. I'm essential." Alana had stood up, the chains that bound her ankles rattling below the table, "You accept my terms now?"

* * *

**Hope you all liked it! Reviews are always super duper welcome. Finals week is almost upon us so I may be able to get the next chapter up by the end of the week (hint hint reviews are very motivational) thanks so much to you all!**


	30. Chapter 29

_"A dog is the only thing on earth that loves you more than he loves himself"_

* * *

_One week later_

* * *

Her voice was as impassive as the expression on her face, "I'm not going to run away, you know." Her eyes followed the pen as it flipped end over end in the air before falling back into her palm. She glanced over at Steve, who sat in the armchair across the room before tossing the writing implement up again.

"I used to believe you." Was his hard toned answer. It made her scoff and she uncrossed her legs, leaning forward to speak to him.

"I went for a run."

"You left without telling either of us!" Steve shot back, "The only reason you're here and not still in The Fridge is because Bucky and I said we'd keep an eye on you."

Ever since she had moved in with the two World War II veterans Alana had put Steve on edge. Their initial reunion had gone well, but the more time he spent with her, the more Steve felt as though something was off. When he told Bucky his best friend had simply said she'd been through a lot – of course she'd be different.

But Steve knew there was something else.

"I'm a terrorist, Steven." Alana rolled her eyes at the glare she received at her comment, "Not a child who needs babysitting."

"Until you prove otherwise-"

"Where's James?" She didn't want another lecture from Mr. Liberty himself. Steve took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose before answering her. She knew it as a habit he displayed when he was getting annoyed. She may be a different person but Steve Rogers wasn't. She could read him like an open book.

"He went out to get something." He noted that she still didn't call him Bucky. It was James. Always James nowadays.

"Very specific." Alana put down the pen on the coffee table before rising to her feet. Steve watched as she made her way towards the kitchen. He had hidden all of their knives before she arrived, not that that got rid of all the weapons in the house. No, there were guns hidden and Steve's shield sat by the front door. But at least he didn't have to worry about Alana stabbing either him or Bucky.

He hated that he had to worry about such a thing. She was his friend and all Steve wanted was for her to be herself again.

The sound of the doorknob rattling drew Steve's attention to the front door. A moment later it swung open. Bucky walked inside, a leash wrapped around his metal hand, the other end clipped to the collar of large dog. The animal was straining against the collar, his nails clicking against the hardwood.

Bucky looked at Steve, smirking before leaning down to the clip that hooked the leash onto the collar. The Doberman glanced up at Bucky, his stub of a tail wagging slightly. "Incoming." Bucky chuckled just a second before he let the dog loose.

Steve heard all noise from the kitchen cease. The dog seemed to run in place for a moment before finding his footing and taking off towards the kitchen.

Bucky knew exactly when the dog found Alana. For the first time in over a year he heard her laugh.

"Delta!" The dog's front paws rested on her shoulders as she now sat on the tile floor, a wet tongue licking her face continuously. A second later the dog had flopped down on his side, rolling over on his back so that Alana could rub his belly. "Good boy," She whispered softly, "That's a good boy." Delta's tongue lolled out the side of his open mouth as he panted, his jowls seeming to lift up in an open mouthed smile. The dog looked from Alana to the doorway, where Bucky and Steve stood watching, and then back to Alana.

"He bit the agent who picked him up." Bucky told her, getting a soft smile to appear on Alana's face.

"Figured he would."

* * *

"_Please!" The anguished cry made her pause and look over her shoulder. An old man sat on his knees, begging her to stop as tears ran down his face. "He's only a boy." She looked back at who's throat she held her knife too. _

_The old man was right, he was only a boy, but he'd grow up. He'd remember what she'd done._

_Alana couldn't have that. _

_The boy whimpered and her knife cut his throat before he could draw another breath. His blood ran hot over her gloved hands and she let his body drop to the ground. The old man let out a strangled cry._

"_You're a monster!" He shouted out at her._

_Yes, she thought, she supposed she was a monster._

Alana sat up with a start, her hands clutching the bedsheets that covered her body. Her chest heaved up and down as she worked to calm herself down. She looked to her left to see Delta curled up atop the bed, the dog sound asleep.

She pushed the sheets back and climbed out of bed, being sure to tread silently in order to not wake the dog before slipping out of the room. Alana padded down the hallway quietly, her interest piquing at the lamp that was already on in the living room. She found the reason a moment later when her eyes drifted outside.

Bucky stood out on the metal grate balcony, donning only a pair of sweatpants. His back was to her, the city lights that were illuminated blocks away reflected off his metal arm. Her gaze drifted to his right hand, where he held a cigarette between his fingers. She watched as he lifted his hand up and out of her sight – to take a drag from it she guessed – and then saw him blow the smoke out soon after.

Then she was sliding the door open and stepping outside so she was right behind him. "Didn't know you smoked." Bucky turned his head to look back at her. His hair was long again – not Winter Soldier long – but it hung down enough to cover most of his ears and forehead. It gave him a shaggy look.

"Started a few months back. Figured health risks weren't really a thing for me and well," He shrugged his shoulders, "I needed a distraction from everything."

"From me." It wasn't a question.

"Yeah." Bucky lifted his hand again to take another drag, pausing to watch Alana walk to the front of the balcony and rest her elbows on the railing before blowing the smoke out.

"I have a picture of you, back where they kept me. Only one I had, actually. Thought maybe I wouldn't completely lose myself."

"I don't think you lost yourself." She just shrugged, continuing to stare out at the city. Bucky walked to stand next to her, tapping the cigarette on the railing to watch a few embers fall, the light dying just seconds after leaving the blunt.

"James." Her voice was tired, her shoulders stiffening slightly when he placed his metal hand over hers. Alana looked down at it, always being fascinated at how the metal all moved seamlessly together.

"You gunna get mad at me for saying what I think is true?" Alana said nothing, "Why're you up anyways?"

"Could ask you the same thing." In answer Bucky took one final drag from his cigarette. He flicked it away then, the two of them watching it fall down to the street below. "You know why I'm awake."

"What're they about?"

"Nothing you need to know about."

"I think I'm the one person who deserves to hear everything." His hand fell into empty space as she backed away from him, her eyes narrowed as she glared at him.

"What the fuck does that mean?"

Bucky made a face, "Well, you did just leave, knowing you weren't actually going to die. Uh, you _kissed me_ and then left me to think you dead." In the next moment she was shoving a hand against his chest – and to his surprise – Bucky stumbled backwards.

"I did it to _protect _you. To protect my family. They threatened to kill you and I couldn't live with those fucking _bastards_ playing with my brain anymore!" She shoved him twice more until he was against the railing. She was leaning over him, her eyes seeming as though they were on fire. For the first time in his life, Bucky was actually afraid of Alana. "I could shove you off this balcony right now." She threatened lowly, her head cocking to the side slightly.

"I wouldn't die."

"No, but it'd hurt like a mother and that'd be enough for me." There was a scratching sound that drew Alana's attention away from Bucky. On the other side of the glass door sat Delta, the dog's ears up, attention focused on his master outside. Alana let out a breath and took a step back, letting Bucky stand upright again.

She didn't say a word before she turned and stalked back inside, the Doberman following at her heels. Bucky only hesitated for a second before following as well, closing the sliding door behind him. Her door was swinging closed when he wedged his foot in the way.

"_James._" Alana wasn't back in bed yet, but the dog was there. Bucky stared at Delta as the animal let out a low growl. Alana sent her dog a glance, "Hush." The growling stopped immediately. Bucky stepped inside without an invitation and closed the door behind him.

"Just listen, I get it, you don't want to think about it. You don't know who you really are anymore and neither do we."

"I know who I am." She shot back, struggling to keep her voice low so they wouldn't wake Steve down the hall.

"Then who are you? The person who murdered thousands of innocent people?" Alana drew up straighter, her shoulders tensing at his words. Bucky let out a breath, "Or the person who's horrified by what you did?" He watched as she reached out a hand behind her, Delta getting up right away and positioning himself so that her hand rested atop his boxy head. As her fingers moved to scratch the dog Bucky was able to watch her calm down right before his eyes. "What helped me the most, what I want you to realize so you can start to get better, is that none of that was your fault. Yeah, so you were wielding the knife, but what if you didn't? A lot of us would be dead, a lot more people would be dead. So no matter which one of those you think you are, let one forgive the other. That's when you'll get better."

Her attention was solely on her dog now, both of her hands on either side of his head as the Doberman pressed his head gently into her chest. The monotonous movements of tracing circles into his fur calmed her down, but she was still listening to Bucky talk. "Just," He sighed, "Think about it."

* * *

The next few days saw an establishment of routine in the apartment. Steve would always be the first to get out of bed, walking to the kitchen – and on his way – stopping to peek into the extra bedroom that was now Alana's.

She was always the same: awake, sitting atop the covers and starring ahead at the wall. Delta would be lying by her side, his head settled in her lap as she stroked him over and over again. When Steve opened the door the dog's ears would perk up, but he would never raise his head.

After Steve had coffee going Bucky would wander in a few minutes later, the two would sit at the counter together drinking their respective cups. Sometimes they'd talk, sometimes they wouldn't. Then they alternated days on who would go for a run first. They used to go together, but the rules that were set clearly stated Alana wasn't to be left alone.

After one of them was gone she would get up, Delta faithfully following at her heels and sitting regally as she poured his food into the dog dish Steve had bought the day after he arrived. Delta and Alana would eat at the same time, the dog lying next to her chair after he finished.

Bucky was away the first time either him or Steve saw her really play with Delta. Steve had been trying to keep his distance so Alana wouldn't feel like he was hovering, sitting on his bed sketching in his notebook when he heard the dog start barking. It didn't worry him at first – the dog barked every once and a while – but the snarling was new.

"Back off!" Steve was too alarmed by Alana's words to notice the playful tone and he was rushing down the hallway a second later. The scene before him made him stop in his tracks.

Alana and Delta were in the middle of the living room, Alana sitting on the carpet. Her hands were clamped on either side of the dog's face. Delta's mouth was mouth, his sharp teeth bared as he snarled continuously. Both were still for a moment before Alana trashed the dog's head back and forth.

The dog's snarling grew louder, and Steve's eyebrows rose when Alana started to laugh. Delta jumped backwards, pulling his head free and dropping to his elbows on the carpet, his butt still in the air. The little stub of a tail made his whole backside sway back and forth.

Alana's hand shot forward to grab the dog's paw, but he jumped backwards, spinning in a circle and barking at her. As the dog went at her, jaws open, Alana grabbed the sides of his head again.

They were playing, Steve realized after watching for a few moments, a smile sliding over his face.

In one quick move she had an arm around the dog's belly and pulled him down into her lap. Delta went still instantly, Alana leaning over the dog, her shoulders shaking in silent laughter.


	31. Chapter 30

**So, it's been awhile. Sorry about that but thank you so much for the couple of you who reviewed! I really love the reviews! I also have a new story idea, which I may start writing soon but it's not a CA or Avengers one. Let me know if any of you wanna hear about it!**

**Disclaimer: I own **_**nothing **_**(In Sergeant Shultz voice)**

* * *

"_In the night she hears him calling." The Weeknd_

* * *

Alana doesn't like sudden changes in an already established routine. So when Steve didn't come back to the apartment by the time Bucky was making dinner, it put her on edge. She appeared silently just inside the kitchen, Delta ever present by her side.

"Where's Steve?" Bucky glanced at her over his shoulder as he continued to stir the pasta he was making.

He chose not to comment on the bluntness of her question before he answered. "Washington DC." Her eyebrows rose, her eyes flickering to the pot Bucky was tending to for a brief moment before she responded with another question.

"When'll he be back?"

The one armed veteran shrugged in response, "Dunno, a couple days at least, at most a week."

She just stared for a minute before nodding, quietly mumbling "It's almost Christmas." Under her breath.

Alana was turning away when Bucky spoke up again, "If you want, you could take Delta for a run. This won't be ready for another half hour."

Her back straightened as she stood up taller, her head tilting to the side slightly. "Aren't you scared I won't come back?"

Bucky just smiled softly, "You'll come back." She didn't need more prodding and was out the door and on the streets ten minutes later, Delta trotting by her side. The air was cold but neither of them noticed. Alana because she'd learned to ignore her own discomforts. Delta because of the jacket he wore.

Steve had bought it for him a few days ago. Alana suspected he enjoyed having her dog around.

The dog kept her from going too fast. Even though it was dark there were still people out on the streets. Running too fast would draw unwanted attention.

Alana was still supposed to be dead.

The assassin chose to focus on her surroundings. Boot clad feet pounding against the snow packed asphalt, her breath coming out in puffs of white air. Delta's nails gripping for a millisecond into the snow before the traction propelled him forwards. The feeling of her muscles moving underneath the hoodie and sweatpants she had thrown on before leaving. Her cell phone bounced in her pocket, reminding her of a chore she'd been meaning to take care of for days.

Alana ignored it for a few more minutes, jogging another mile before slowing down and digging the device out. She glanced around first, checking the skyline to make sure she couldn't see the apartment's balcony from where she stood. Delta sat by her side, eyes focused on his master's face as she pressed a few keys before holding the phone up to her ear.

It only rang twice before someone picked up the other end. Alana let out a sign of relief when the dial tone ceased.

"This is Asset 87."

* * *

She stood awkwardly outside the apartment door after rapping her knuckles against it a little under an hour later. Her dog stood wagging his tail, nose against the door as they waited for Bucky to open up. Alana let out an impatient breath before knocking again. She started slightly when the lock turned a second later.

Bucky opened the door, grinning at the two as he moved back enough so they could slip inside. "See, knew you'd come back." Alana unclipped Delta's leash, the dog bounding towards the kitchen, leaving Alana and Bucky alone as she slipped off her hat. "Dinner's on the table, still warm."

"Thank you." He nodded, following her into the living room – where they usually ate – and watching as she fixed herself a plate. Alana scooped out more than she usually did, and Bucky chose not to comment.

He felt like he had just under a year ago, watching her eat as he sat silently. Though they weren't in DC anymore and he wasn't in a cell. She was the one who was recovering and Bucky knew who he was now.

He was an ex-Hydra assassin. The Winter Soldier. He was a World War II veteran. A Purple Heart recipient. A Howling Commando. A good friend. An honest man. He'd made mistakes and he had forgiven himself for some of those. He was James Buchanan Barnes and he was the one who would help Alana recover.

Her movements were almost mechanical as she ate. Precise and even. Alana used to shovel food in her mouth; her manners were almost as bad as Barton's when she wasn't with her family.

"Вы говорили с Клинтом в последнее время." (Have you talked to Clint lately?)

Her response was so quick and easy that a smile spread across Bucky's lips right away, "Нет, но я буду называть только." (No, but I'll call soon.) As soon as the words passed by her lips her head shot up, Alana surprised at her own willingness to answer in Russian. She returned her focus right back to her food.

"Я понимаю , будучи легче говорить по-русски." (I get it; being easier to speak in Russian) He told her, his hand reaching out to pet Delta automatically when the dog walked over to him. "Они всегда говорили по-русски." (They always spoke in Russian.) Bucky's gaze was suddenly far off as he remembered his own time with Hydra. "Даже если это была пытка , все это, это то, чтобы вернуться . Это хорошо, когда есть что-то знакомое." (Even if it was torture, all this, this being back. It's nice to have something familiar.)

The fork fell from her fingers, clattering against the plate as his words registered. "да." (Yes.) In all her time Alana had never been able to pin point that fact. It was why they suffered so much. It was the trauma, of course, and it was the nightmares. But deep down was the thing that James had figured out.

Her imprisonment was what she knew.

She missed it.

* * *

Alana woke up with a start that night, her skin coated in a cold sweat and the images of her latest nightmare still swimming in the back of her mind. She could practically smell the blood that had covered her arms. Her eyes shot downwards, her limbs struggling to get above the covers so she could see her clean skin.

It still wasn't enough. She was out of bed a minute later and walking briskly down the hall to the bathroom. Alana turned on the hot water; waiting until she saw steam before shoving her forearms underneath the spray. It burned and that was just what she was looking for. To burn off the blood that she could practically feel, that she could still smell.

Alana leaned forward until her forehead rest against the mirror.

"Alana!" She let out a string of curses as she knocked her face on the reflective glass when she sat up too quickly at the shout. "Alana!" She fumbled with the faucet for a few quick moments in her rush before managing to get the water off. Her forearms continued to burn as she made her way out into the hallway and down to James's bedroom door.

She waited for a few minutes, could hear his heavy breathing mixed with something else that she couldn't place right away. "Alana!" He was crying.

Alana pushed open the door with her shoulder, letting herself inside and waiting for her eyes to adjust to the darkness. His metal arm became visible first, the silver reflecting even the slightest nuance of light. Her eyes shifted to the Soviet star on his shoulder, and then to the junction point where metal joined flesh. Even though the apartment was a bit chilly, neither Alana nor Bucky slept in much. Bucky just in sweatpants and Alana in shorts and a tank top.

Too many clothes made them feel restricted.

He drew in a shaky breath, his hands clenching around the sheets. His metal arm let out a soft whirr that made so many memories rush through Alana's mind.

Before she could rethink herself Alana was crawling onto the bed, pausing when she was right beside him and resting a hand on the side of his face. "James." She pushed his hair back behind his ears. Alana lowered herself down until she was on her side in front of him. "James, wake up."

Her fingertips were gentle along his jawline, the scruff rough as she stroked it gently, "I'm here." His nostrils flared out, but he didn't cry out again. Alana carefully wiped away a tear that was on his cheek, James's eyes opening while she did so.

He didn't say anything; just watched her study him for a moment. She hadn't been this close to him in a long time and she wondered briefly what his lips felt like against hers. Her eyes darted down – Bucky noticed even in the darkness – and leaned forward, kissing the side of his mouth softly.

She lingered for a moment, Bucky's eyes closing under her touch. He turned his head, his mouth fully covering hers, and for a moment, she stilled. Later, he would blame his nightmares – the images of losing her over and over again – and he would blame the twenty first century, it took away his manners.

When she started to reciprocate James nearly lost his mind. Pulling her closer he wrapped his metal arm around her waist, Alana's hand running up into his long hair. For the first time in a long time Alana actually felt something.

She pulled away, her forehead resting against Bucky's. He nuzzled her softly, that stupid smirk in place on his lips. "Why do you only call me James?" He asks gently, a question that had been bothering him for weeks.

Alana kissed him quickly, offering a simple, "Makes it easier." As a response.

"How?"

"I didn't fall in love with James." His breath hitched and he was completely sure this was a dream for a moment. Couldn't possibly be real. But then she kept speaking, "I lost Bucky and I can't bear to get him back only to lose him again."

She had already been so close to leaving him behind, to forgetting and accepting that fact. She couldn't do it again, refused to.

"You won't lose me."

"Everyone I love ends up getting left behind." Her eyes closed and Bucky drew circles with his metal finger along her arm.

"That's the thing, I'm real good at keeping up." A smirk appeared on her lips, and he took that as a good sign. A step forward in the right direction.

"Everyone says that." Maybe not, but she leans forward just the same, pressing her lips against his again but he's trying _so _hard. He means every word, she can tell, and she always was terrible at denying him things he wanted.

Bucky wants to think it over more, to talk with her about it, but he's too distracted in that moment. Feels too _alive _to really complain. For a moment he thinks he's being selfish and then her hand is tugging at his hair and _God _it's even better than he dreamed.

* * *

In morning he's alone. He would think he imagined it all if it wasn't for the crumpled sheets beside him. Her scent still lingering on the pillow beside him.

Bucky slips out of bed, his feet cold against the hardwood floor. He's greeted by Delta first; the big dog bounding up to him – tail going a mile a minute. Bucky pets him for a few moments, scratching behind the Doberman's ears.

He finds Alana starring outside, a mug of coffee held between her hands. "Morning." She looks over at him, nods her head back, but moves away. A clear sign that she doesn't want him to touch her.

He lets out a breath, steels his face, and moves to the kitchen instead.

One leap forward, twenty steps back.


	32. Chapter 31

**Sorry it's been a while. But I hope you all had a great holiday! **

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Avengers**

* * *

_To be reserved, secretive, with a passionate violence that causes suffering_

* * *

She was there the next night to wake him up again. Sooner this time than before, her fingertips tracing the panes of his face as she lowered herself beside him, her voice softly drawing him out of the nightmares.

"I'm right here." And in the darkness she let him gather her into his arms. Alana ran her hand over the side of his face, running it down his neck and shoulder to where flesh met metal. Bucky tensed, watching her carefully as she ran a soft finger over the scarred flesh.

When her eyes met his again she simply smiled softly, leaning forward and pressing her lips to his. He reacted immediately, kissing her back before his mind caught up with his body.

"Alana." He pulled back, ducking his head slightly when she went to chase him. "Doll," She paused at the pet name. "_Talk to me_." He begged her, his metal hand coming to rest on the side of her face. "Why-"

"Why not?" She cut him off. "We both need a distraction at night,"

"You're not a distraction to me." Bucky propped himself up on his other arm. "You're more than that."

"I just want to help relieve the pain." She told him, reaching out for his hand and intertwining their fingers, "Let me help."

"We're not supposed to, you were just rescued, doll, and-"

"and what Bucky?" His eyes softened as she used his nickname for the first time. "We've both never really listened to rules. No one needs to know," She smiled, "Not yet."

He let out a deep, throaty chuckle. Alana bit her lip, "Come on soldier," her tone was playful, sounding so much like the person she was before she disappeared, "someone told me you knew how to show a girl a good time."

"Where'd you hear that?" He teased her now, moving slowly and placing a hand on either side of her, hovering himself above her. Her hand reached up, barely touching his bare chest. He shivered just the same, his eyes closing briefly. Bucky's dark hair hung down, getting longer and longer by the day. She let out a breath of a laugh, flattening her hand over his abdomen. It glided around to his backside until she gripped his hip.

Alana lifted herself up so her mouth was right beside his ear, "Just go for it, Sergeant." She urged, squeezing his hip and turning her head to look him in the eyes. Alana had never seen a darker shade of blue before.

Bucky let his hips drop, grinding down onto her and crashing his lips against hers.

Alana's hands clawed at Bucky's back, trying to pull him even closer as his tongue slipped into her mouth. It was better than either of them had ever imagined, had dreamed of and it wasn't long before his hand was slipping under her tank top and she was helping him slip it off, tossing it onto his bedroom floor.

"You're beautiful." Her torso was riddled with scars, marks left behind from months of torture and torment. Each told a story of it's own. One of strength and faith, of enduring and overcoming things that would crush most others. It made his heart break and he set to work mapping out the planes of her stomach with his mouth.

"_Bucky_." At her sigh his pants were suddenly too restricting, making him shift slightly. Her hands were buried in his hair, tugging at it as her body trembled under his touch. And suddenly it was all going too fast.

What was he doing?

Bucky stilled, willing himself to stop. Slowly he moved back to her mouth, kissing her softly before pulling away. "We can't do this."

Alana let out a sigh, rolling her eyes in irritation, "Nobody-"

"This isn't about rules." Bucky cut her off, still on top of her as he ran a hand through her hair, "You're you. I can't just..." he trailed off, not sure how to fully explain it. Alana remained silent, unmoving as his hand ran through her hair over and over again, "If we do, I want it to be special," He rolled then, keeping her close to him and smiling when she lay her head on his chest, "This is enough to keep away the nightmares."

* * *

"_Come on," A slim, red headed man a few years younger than Alana elbowed her in the side, "Say it again." She rolled her eyes at him._

"_Really, Owen?" She stepped over a fallen log as they continued to make their way through the forest, back towards the Humvee they had left hidden in the woods while they took out their target. Owen nodded his head._

"_As more of a celebratory thing?" He offered, "I just completed my first real mission."_

"_It's not completed until we're home." Alana's answer was immediate, words Clint had told her over and over again. It was a strange feeling for her; to be a supervising officer._

_Owen was her first charge. _

_She let herself grin, "The cah keys are on the shelf in the gahage." Owen's smile widened instantly at her Bostonian accent. He had never met anyone with one before; being from California. _

"_That's so-"_

_A loud explosion cut off his sentence, Alana not being able to think as she was thrown through the air, colliding back to the ground a few seconds later. The world was covered in black dots that swam in and out of her vision, but she pushed herself up, staggering over to Owen, who still was on the ground. "Get up," She told him, grabbing a hold of his arm and yanking. "We've gotta move!" She tugged again when he didn't move. "Owen?" She looked away from scanning the surroundings and down at him again, her vision slowly getting back to normal._

_The red-head was still motionless._

"_Owen!" Alana was on her knees then by his side, shaking him to try and wake him up. "Owen!" She rolled him over, his brown eyes staring blankly up at her. Alana felt like her blood turned to ice, her hand shaking as she checked for a pulse._

_Nothing._

"_OWEN!" She shook his body frantically, her head snapping up at the sound of footsteps approaching._

"Alana!"

She woke with a start, sitting up quickly to scan her surroundings.

She found Bucky standing a few feet away, hands limp by his sides, staring down at her just inside the doorway with a worried expression on his face. Alana didn't say anything, her hands gripping the sheets until her knuckles turned white.

Delta whined softly from the end of the bed, but he didn't move closer to her.

Bucky stayed silent as well, a quizzical expression clouding his face when she did speak up, "He's dead." It was a statement, she remembered it happening. Like it was yesterday and not almost eight years ago.

Alana had never watched someone she had cared about die before that day. It was a feeling Clint never could have prepared her for; no one could.

"Owen?" His voice brought her attention back to the metal armed man in the room and she nodded.

"Yes." She glanced to the end of her bed, drawing Bucky's attention to Delta. He hadn't noticed the dog was there at all, curled up into a little ball. "It's alright." Alana whispered, the dog getting up in the next second and making his way towards her, licking her face once.

"Are you okay?" Bucky felt awkward now, not knowing if he should stay or go. It had been three days since she first crawled into bed with him and she still didn't let him touch her during the day.

Bucky pretended that didn't bother him. He kept his distance, dealt with the small talk as they lived around one another.

He watched her prop herself up on one arm, her lips pursed for a moment before speaking up, "When Steve gets back, I'll tell them where the scepter is." All Bucky could manage was a nod, then she patted the spot beside her, inviting him over.

Delta moved easily, his tail wagging as Bucky climbed into bed, the dog taking his spot at the end again. Alana let out a breath as Bucky's metal arm wrapped around her, pulling her to his chest. "I'm glad you're here."

"You never answered my question." He pointed out. She just repositioned herself, her arm slung over his chest so she could trace the scars that came from his cybernetic arm.

"You wouldn't like the answer." It was mumbled into his chest just before she pressed a kiss to his sternum.

"Wanna talk about it?" Her silence was answer enough, but Bucky chose to pry, "It had to be pretty big if it made you decide to give up the scepter's location."

"I watched someone die again-"

He rolled his eyes, "I got that much."

"You want me to talk about it or no?" Her voice was almost harsh, so he shut up. "Little bit after I got full status with S.H.I.E.L.D they assigned me an agent to train. Made me a supervising officer. Real promising kid, Owen." Alana's fingers traced circles on Bucky's chest as she spoke, "It was our first overseas mission. Something real simple, quick assassination. We got caught in an ambush while we were headed back to our car. Bomb went off, threw me off my feet. Owen wasn't up yet when I managed to get to his side." Her lips pursed together, "Took me a few moments to figure out he was dead. Instantly killed in the blast."

Alana jumped slightly when Bucky's flesh hand found hers, the older soldier weaving his fingers through hers and squeezing her hand. "I didn't even have time to get his body outta there. Fury said it was gone when they went back." She shifted her eyes so she could see Bucky's face, his hair falling into his eyes slightly.

She made a note to make sure he cut it soon.

"I've been making sure none of you get killed. But soon the Avengers are going to try and find the scepter even if I don't say where it is. Rather they not get killed trying to get into the wrong base."

He stiffened, knew she was right and something about the way she said 'rather they not get killed' put him on edge. The Alana he knew would have never said anything like that, wouldn't have even joked about it.

She was different, she had changed and he knew that. Bucky accepted that fact but had always been comforted knowing this is where she wanted to be. If it wasn't, then she'd be gone.

He kept reminding himself of that. Every time she turned away during the day. Every time she gave him a short answer. Every time she didn't smile back at him.

In almost every sense she had died. He had gone to her funeral, he had mourned and gone through the pain.

Now he wasn't sure where they were supposed to start. Had no clue how it was supposed to be; so he took what he could get.

His hold around her tightened and he didn't say anything, not wanting to have her run away. If Bucky only got to hold her at night, then he wasn't about to let go.

He knew she'd be gone before he woke up; she always was.

* * *

Three days later: Stark Tower.

* * *

Getting Alana Mercer into Stark Tower without being noticed by the public was an almost impossible feat, but S.H.I.E.L.D pulled it off.

After Alana had agreed to give up the scepter's location, an emergency meeting was arranged to form an extraction plan. Director Fury and Agent Hill were flown in, and every Avenger was in the same place for the first time in months.

It was no celebratory reunion though; not by a long shot.

Bucky and Steve were assigned to Alana as guards, escorting her from the car to the meeting, the latter being handcuffed – as a safety precaution – before she was led to the conference room. When the doors slide open, she saw they were the last to arrive. Tony opened his mouth to greet her, not having seen the assassin since her 'death', but even he fell silent when he saw the look on her face.

The coldness in her eyes was what really bothered him.

For security precautions the blinds had been lowered so no one could see inside. It made the room darker than she would have liked, reminding her of the cell she had first been kept in with Hydra.

"Lady Alana." Thor was the first to acknowledge her, her gaze snapped over to him quickly. He simply bowed his head, "It brought Asgard much joy when we learned of your survival."

"Thanks." She didn't know what else to say, and Thor didn't catch on to her lack of gratitude.

Clint was the only one to stand up and greet her as Bucky and Steve took their seats. Her supervising officer wrapped her in a hug, one that, to most everyone's surprise, she returned. "Lana." He pulled away, Alana simply nodding her head and offering a tight smile before he went to sit back down.

"Agent Mercer." Director Fury stood up, motioning to the holographic controls on the table, "How about we get started?"

Alana nodded as she made her way over to Fury's side of the table, holding her cuffed hands out, "If you would." She turned her head to look at everyone else as Fury unlocked the cuffs. "Loki's scepter is being held in a Hydra facility in Sokovia. It's their smallest base and is protected by-"

"That's right by where you were being kept." Agent Hill interrupted, looking up from the papers that were spread out in front of her. Alana rolled her now-free wrists around, sending the agent a quick glare before continuing, typing in a code she had memorized after watching guards type it in several times while she was in the base itself.

"I was to be called in if the Avengers were to attack." She let them know, "I didn't know I was close by, they always knocked me out before I was taken there. Now," She pressed a button, a holographic image of the old castle appearing over the table. "This is the building, protected by a force field that will need to be deactivated." She reached out, zooming in on a section of the building, "Once that's down there're multiple ways inside. I was never brought to the scepter itself but-"

"How do you know it's there then?" It was Steve who questioned her credibility.

"How do you think they powered the tests and experiments they ran on me?" Alana raised her eyebrows, "You already know it has power to take over someone's mind. It can keep people alive in extreme circumstances. It's there, Captain." Steve nodded his head.

"What about the security, princess?" Tony had his feet propped atop the table as he spoke with his words and hand gestures at the same time, "If they don't have you anymore."

"Hydra soldiers are all stationed inside and outside. Hundreds of them. They have tanks as well, I told them they were silly to use, but I was ignored." Alana zoomed out on the hologram, showing the whole building again and stepping back, her hands clasped together behind her back.

"What if we could get them to surrender?" Bruce – always the peaceful one - thought aloud, making Alana bark out a laugh. Everyone's attention was back on her.

"If you'd like my opinion. We go in fast and all at once, killing as many as possible would send them into a frenzy and they wouldn't expect that style of fighting."

Steve shot down the idea immediately, "We're not killing everyone in sight!"

"You're going to give them a choice first?" Alana challenged, "You'll get shot down."

"And using people losing lives as a distraction? That's twisted, the last person I knew who did that was-"

"Me?" Steve's mouth hung open as he tried to find a way to say she was wrong.

"Alana-"

"No, that's what I did. And it worked. Because of your values, Steve, your values that everyone follows."

"If they shoot at you shoot back." Natasha said calmly, "Simple."

"I agree with Romanoff." Nick Fury nodded as he spoke before looking to Alana, "Agent Mercer if you can't change your mindset you won't be allowed on this mission."

"You need me there and you know it."

"You're walking a very thin line, Mercer." Fury warned her, his jaw set tightly.

"I know all the codes, all the guard schedules."

"You would not have been there long enough to learn those." Thor looked smug with himself, pointing out what should have been obvious.

"I see something once and I remember it. They toyed with my brain, made me more of a machine than a human being. I know so much that I wish I didn't. Why do you think I hate myself?"

"Thin line, Mercer." Fury was one step closer to sidelining Alana on the mission. They could get it done without her, it would be harder, but possible.

"I want them to pay for it, Director." Her gaze settled on Bucky, who had remained silent the whole time, "For everything they've ever done."


	33. Chapter 32

**I was really excited about this chapter so it's up fast! It's short but I...you'll understand when you get to the end ;)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own much, just Alana.**

* * *

"_You can forgive a murderer but you cannot forgive a traitor."_

* * *

It felt strange to be in her S.H.I.E.L.D uniform again. Especially after all of her missions for Hydra she had worn civilian clothes; those were easier to disappear in than a uniform.

It had been two weeks since they initially came up with a plan to get the scepter. Alana thought it was stupid, Fury requiring her to go through a field evaluation to be cleared. She had passed easily, most of it she didn't even break a sweat during.

Now, looking around at everyone, all the Avengers crowded into the quinjet, she felt like they were flying into New York again. There was one major difference: Bucky was on board now. He looked only slightly out of place, sitting opposite her, staring down at his hands as he twisted them together for lack of nothing better to do.

He had a uniform too, requested one after her funeral – she had been informed – to wear on missions. It reminded Alana of a mix between Steve's and STRIKE Team: Delta's. It was a dark military green and brown, and lacked the iconic star on the front.

Bucky had cut his hair for the mission too, after she'd commented on it's length a few nights ago.

"Alright, guys, we're an hour out." Tony spun around from the pilot's seat, putting Jarvis in charge for the time being, "Captain, you wanna run through the plan for a hundredth time?"

Steve ignored the jab, and instead just nodded, looking around to make sure everyone was paying attention before he started talking. "We'll land two miles out, split up and come towards the base from different angles. Barton and Romanoff you've got the Humvee. Surprise attack, remember. Tony," Steve nodded to Stark, "You've got them from up top, break that energy field so we can get inside fast. Once that's down Tony and I will move in while Barton, Romanoff, Banner and Thor do ground control outside."

"Wait." Alana sat up straighter from where she had been slouching, leaning forward to rest her elbows on her knees, "I was going in with you and Stark." Her voice took on a bitter edge, "We _agreed _to that."

She got her response from Captain America, not Steve Rogers, "Plan changed. Bucky will be staying here to guard you. Alana you don't leave this plane, tell us what we need to know through the earpieces." She was on her feet then, stalking towards him, her eyes narrowed.

"I need to be on the ground." She hissed through gritted teeth, clenching her hand into a fist to keep herself from shoving the Captain.

"The plane'll be on the ground, and you'll be on the plane." If looks could kill Tony Stark would've died instantly. But instead he held his hands up in defense, "Just saying."

"Well, shut up."

"You wanna go princess?"

"I can crush you like a bug. With or without your suit on."

Tony opened his mouth to retort, but closed it when Steve shot him a look. "Alana," Natasha's demeanor didn't change as she spoke, "If they activate that chip in your head while you're out there; you're dead."

_But they won't_. Alana knew they wouldn't do that, but knew she couldn't say that aloud. Instead she chose a different route, "They won't expect me to be here."

"They'll figure it out pretty damn fast." It was the first words she'd heard from Bucky in the past three hours. He shrugged his shoulders, "It's true. That's why I'm not going inside. Who knows what they could do to me."

She was silent at that, flinching when Steve put a hand on her shoulder, "You'll be more of an asset to us in here than out there." She stiffened when he referred to her as an 'asset', but otherwise made no other move.

"It's for your own safety." Clint was leaning against one of the walls, his arms crossed over his chest. His bow was propped up on the wall next to him.

"Fine." She practically spat out the word, "I'll stay on board."

"We'll call you out if we run into any major problems." Steve tried to sound reassuring, but she just turned away from him, going back to her seat. The Captain watched as Bucky reached his metal hand out towards her slowly, his best friend's lips pursing together when she shifted away from him.

Steve could tell her rejection hurt Bucky, but his friend always recovered quickly, whispering something in Russian to her that made her let out a huff. Bucky smirked slightly, leaning back into his own seat to wait out the rest of the flight.

* * *

Alana grabbed Clint's arm as he was climbing aboard the Humvee an hour later. He paused, looking back at her and raising his eyebrows, "Be careful." Her words made him cock a grin.

"Always am, Lana. Don't do anything stupid." She rolled her eyes, her attention momentarily interrupted as Doctor Banner changed into the Hulk.

"Showtime, everybody." Tony's voice came in through the earpiece she wore.

"Alana," She looked back at Clint, "Everything'll be fine." With that she let go of him, watching Clint swing himself up top and ready his bow.

"Let's go!" At Steve's command the Avengers were off, Natasha driving the Humvee, Clint turned and gave Alana a salute as he disappeared from view. She watched Thor and Tony disappear into the sky, the Hulk rampage off, and then Steve was racing off on his motorcycle, his shield on his back.

Her gut twisted, her legs itching to run with them, but Bucky's voice brought her back to reality. "Come on, we've got a monitor to run."

His tone made her stop short, her eyebrows drawing together. "Everything okay, James?" She didn't miss the way his shoulders tensed when she said his name.

"No." He didn't even look back at her, his hand more slamming on than pressing the button that raised the quinjet's ramp.

"Really? Cause you almost broke that button."

"Let's get to the monitor." He ignored her attempt to lighten the mood, walking over and taking his post in front of the monitor screen. "Jarvis, where's everyone at?"

"These are the Avengers' current locations, Sergeant Barnes." Six dots appeared on a virtual map of the area. Bucky began to type away at a keyboard, ignoring Alana as she came to stand behind him.

"James-" When her hand came to rest on his shoulder he shoved it off.

"I'm working. This is a mission, let's focus." He was done with her. Done with the ignoring, done with her shrugging him off during the day and crawling into bed with him at night. He felt used. Even when he had the best of intentions all she did was shove him away, and now that he did the same she seemed to care.

Their earpieces crackled to life a moment later, Steve's voice filling her head, "_Alana, how many outposts to they have?" _

"It's a perimeter precaution, they're spaced seventy-five yards apart." The information rattled off her tongue easily. She glanced over at the screen Bucky was at, watching as Tony's locator showed him almost on top of the base.

She heard a blast and then, "_Shit!"_

"_Language!" _Alana's eyes widened as she held back a laugh.

"I could've told you that shield wasn't down, Stark." Alana shook her head.

"_It is an energy shield, Strucker's technology just as Ms. Mercer said." _Jarvis pitched in his two cents.

"_Loki's scepter truly is here. At long last we've found it." _Steve let out a sigh of relief at Thor's words. It wasn't that he hadn't believed Alana, but it was nice to have confirmation.

"_At long last is taking a little long, boys." _Alana could hear Natasha fighting as she spoke, her lips pulling up into a grin.

"_I think we've lost the element of surprise." _

"Thanks to Tony," Alana grumbled, earning a glare from Bucky, who turned in his chair to look at her.

"_Wait a minute, no one else is gunna mention the fact that Cap just said 'language'?" _

"_I know! It just-" _There was a pause, "_It slipped out." _

"I'll give'em shit for it later." Alana looked over as Bucky when he spoke, his tone suddenly lighthearted.

"_Look forward to it, Barnes." _Bucky chuckled. Alana didn't say anything, walking slowly over to where she could look out into the forest. Tony said something about sending in the Iron Legion, and shortly after Alana glanced over at Bucky. He was occupied, studying the base's map and relaying coordinates to Stark through the earpiece.

It only took Alana a second to slip her earpiece out and slip it in a storage space beside her. She grinned.

It was time.

"Ah!" Bucky spun around in his chair to see Alana's knees hit the ground, her hands clutching the sides of her head.

"Alana!" He didn't move for a moment, just watching as she fell to her side, shaking her head back and forth.

"_What's going on, Buck?" _Steve asked as he punched a Hydra soldier in the head.

"She's down." Bucky was by her side in the next second. "Hey, it's alright."

"_We have an enhanced in the field." _Steve sounded out of breath and distracted as he called it in.

Alana took a deep breath as she continued to shake her head back and forth, collecting her thoughts before twisting and grabbing onto Bucky. She brought her mouth up to his ear that didn't have the earpiece.

"I'm really sorry, but I have to." He tried to pull away, but her grip on his head tightened.

"Alana!"

"Sputnik." She let go of his head as Bucky fell to the floor, his whole body limp. Slowly she stood up, nudging him slightly with her boot, just to make sure he was completely out.

Alana moved quickly then, striding over and letting the ramp down and grabbing two guns out of the weapons closet before clipping them on her person. Glancing back at a motionless Bucky Barnes, she let out a breath before running down the ramp and towards the base.

* * *

**Cliffhanger? Didn't see that one coming did you? I'm really excited for what's to come!**

**Also, for anyone who leaves a quality review (You can be critical too) I'll message you a preview of the upcoming chapter! Next chapter will be a long one, I promise!**


	34. Chapter 33

**So I think everyone will love this chapter. You'll see why, but a big thanks to those you reviewed. I've got a new thing, if you review I'll send you an excerpt from the next chapter, so be sure too! Over 200 people follow this story and I only get about four/five reviews for each chapter. It's a little saddening and this story hasn't even hit a hundred reviews yet! I think we will this chapter, though, if we could hit 150 that'd be mind-boggling. Like I would be the happiest person in the whole world, I'd jump for joy, I'd tell my friends about it. Other news, this story is coming to a close soon-ish, like we've got a while but I'm starting to think of what to write next, so I put up a poll on my profile, which also now has words on it too, so if you guys wanna vote on that one, you'd also make me super happy. **

**PLEASE READ ABOVE THIS IS BOLD CAUSE I KNOW SOME PEOPLE SKIP OVER IT.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own much, not the Avengers, not Steve Rogers, not Bucky Barnes. But I do own Alana. **

* * *

"_I don't know how it is you are so familiar to me- or why it feels less like I am getting to know you and more as though I am remembering who you are. How every smile, every whisper brings me closer to the impossible conclusion that I have known you before, I have loved you before- in another time, a different place- some other existence."_

* * *

The snow crunched under her boots as she continued to run towards the base, her arms pumping at her sides. It was the one thing she'd never liked about this part of the world: the snow. As nice as it was to look at, it was a bitch to fight in.

_Those kids better not do anything stupid. _

Alana didn't like that she no longer knew what the Avengers were up to, but ditching her communicator had been essential; she didn't want them to track her at all, or hear her. Either one would soil her own plans, and put more lives in danger.

Following the sounds of gunfire Alana vaulted over a fallen watch tower, towards where she knew one of the Hydra bunkers was. Clint and Natasha would be taking those out, though on the screen it had shown they were separated.

While Alana hated the idea of fighting either one of them, she knew she could do it. She could fight any of them. Natasha and Clint had trained her – she knew their fighting styles – and she had helped further Steve's training, so she knew his as well.

She had fought with Tony and Thor enough to know how they worked, Bruce would be the hardest.

The only one she knew she could never truly fight was Bucky, so she had had to render him out of the playing field.

"Hands up!" A thick, Russian voice suddenly ordered her as Alana stood underneath a canopy of trees. She turned slowly, her eyebrows raised at the Hydra soldier.

"Really?" Recognition dawned over the soldier's features.

His mouth quirked up slightly, "Sorry."

"Have your men start to surrender soon, they'll shoot you."

"Strucker said-"

"Exactly my point. If you put your hands up and surrender they won't shoot you." The Hydra soldier nodded before disappearing again into the woods. Alana shook her head before heading towards the gunfire again.

Moments later the base came into view, and a few hundred yards away Alana caught sight of Clint. He had his bow in hand, eyes trained on a bunker. Slowing to a walk, she watched him turn back around the tree, notching an arrow into place on the bow's string. Her eyes flickered to just behind him, where she could make out the movements of one of Struker's soldiers.

Her fingers found the pistol that was strapped to her thigh, Alana raising the weapon in one fluid motion before pulling the trigger.

Alana watched as a blur suddenly slammed into Clint, sending him flying up into the air, his body spinning around. Her bullet lodged into his side, the archer falling back to the ground with a loud _thud_.

He was quick to push himself up, his eyes scanning the forest. They landed on Alana, standing alone a few hundred feet away, her gun still raised and trained on him. Clint's hand was stationed over his bleeding wound, his body half crouched over in pain.

There was another sudden flash of movement, a young Sokovian man appearing right in front of the archer, "What?" His English was heavily laced with a Russian accent, "You didn't see that coming?" Before Clint could respond he was gone, disappeared again into the woods.

Looking back to where his protégé had stood before, Alana was nowhere to be seen.

* * *

"_Where is it?!" _She held the man up by the collar of his uniform, her face inches away from his as she ground out the words between clenched teeth. Being back in the place of some of her nightmares…it messed up her mind. She felt as though her senses had gone into overdrive, desperately trying to take in every detail of her surroundings.

"I…I don't know." He sputtered out his answer, which wasn't good enough for her. Alana had to work fast; NATO forces would be arriving soon.

"I suggest you know real fast." She threatened, her other hand resting underneath his jaw. She could snap his neck like it was a twig and would do so without hesitation.

"The s-scepter." Her attention was immediately on another man who lay on the floor, having been immobilized by Tony when he had been there just a few minutes before. Alana dropped the man she had been holding up to the floor.

Her sharp gaze implored the man to continue, "He kept the d-device…by the s-scepter." Feebly he raised a hand, pointing to a narrow hallway Alana hadn't seen before. She offered the man a brief nod.

"Thanks."

Her feet carried her down the corridor swiftly, eyes widening at the Leviathan that took up most of the room. If she wasn't so keen to find the object that would dissolve all her nightmares, she may have hesitated at the sight of it, but she kept going.

It was obvious where the now-missing scepter had been, so Alana started there, looking all over the surface for any sort of device that might just be the one to control her mind.

Nothing.

She let out a cry of frustration, knowing she was losing time, before dashing over to another end of the room. Her hand blindly searched a high-leveled shelf, her fingers trying to grab onto anything that could seem promising.

At first, she mostly brought down tools. Screwdrivers, wielding tools, and hammers. But then her fingers wrapped around something else, a small, boxy object. There were two buttons on it; nothing else, one red and one green.

It was enough for her. Throwing it to the ground, Alana didn't hesitate to drive her heel down on the device. As soon as her foot made contact, her world went black.

* * *

"Bucky?" The man in question let out a groan as he sat up, his cybernetic hand rubbing his forehead.

"What the fuck happened?" He opened his eyes to see that he was no longer on a quinjet, but lying on a couch in Stark Tower, "Why am I here?"

"You've been knocked out for two days." The worry in Steve's voice matched the look on his face and it had Bucky waving him off.

"I'm fine." He lied, his head still pounding, "What about the mission?" Steve let out a breath, pinching the bridge of his nose between his index and thumb before answering cryptically.

"Partially successful."

Bucky felt his gut tie up into knots, "What's that mean?"

Steve's hand ran through his hair once, the super soldier standing up from the chair he had sat in to look out over the New York skyline. He couldn't bear to see his friend's expression when the words left his mouth, "We got the scepter, but…" he trailed off, shaking his head. He was still in disbelief.

The sound of nails against hardwood momentarily distracted both veterans as Delta trotted into the room, his tail wagging when he noticed Bucky was awake. Bucky absentmindedly pet the dog, "But, what?"

"Alana." Steve closed his eyes, still not believing his own words, "She, she shot Barton. Then she disappeared."

"No, she." Bucky shook his head, "She would never!" The risen tone of his voice made Delta let out a whine.

"Somehow she knocked you out, then took off. Clint saw'er, Buck. She had her gun trained on him." Bucky didn't remember much of being on the quinjet after he had snapped at Alana. Steve put a hand on Bucky's arm, "Sam's out lookin' for'er." He tried to be comforting, "He'll call if he finds anything."

"How's Barton?"

Elevator doors slide open, Tony Stark strutting out, "He's still Barton. Good to see you're awake sleeping beauty." Bucky rolled his eyes at Howard's son. Tony pointed a finger at the Captain, "You tell'em about princess's friends?"

Bucky's responding glance told Tony his answer. "Two enhancements entered the field. The male has an extremely high metabolism and the female has telekinetic powers." Bucky looked lost.

"To steal from Agent Hill, 'he's fast and she's weird'." Tony supplied, the ex-Hydra assassin nodding.

Steve picked up from there, "According to the files Jarvis got from the base, Alana spent two months there to help with a 'security detail'-"

Tony shrugged his shoulders, "AKA, help train the enhancements. She knew they were there the entire time."

"She would've told us." _She would've told me._ Bucky was shaking his head, trying to figure out a logical explanation for it all.

"She didn't, so right now, there's not much we can do." Bucky opened his mouth to retort, his eyes taking on a hard glint as the anger rose up inside him. If it was anyone else, Steve would've held up his hand to keep him from speaking. But it was Bucky.

"We can look for her!"

Tony let out a huff, gaining both veterans' attention. The millionaire shrugged, "She doesn't want to be found. Capsicle said before we've got Wilson looking, but I doubt he'll find'er."

"Tony's right," Stark grinned smugly as Bucky's jaw clenched, "If Alana doesn't want us to find her, then we won't." In the tense silence that followed none of the men moved, each lost in thought.

It was Tony who broke the silence, "Look, Barnes, we all know about your little crush on her." Bucky's cybernetic arm clenched into a fist, causing Tony to hold up his hands innocently, "But there're other members of this team who were hit a lot harder than you by this."

Clint Barton's devastated face came to Tony's mind. The archer's expression a mix between disbelief and betrayal. He had only spoken in short, clipped sentences. Natasha was worse, feeling as though she should have made more of an effort to talk to her ex-team member while she was here. Maybe they could've changed her mind, or seen what she was actually planning to do.

It was all too late now.

* * *

A party felt wrong and Bucky had voiced his opinion on the subject multiple times. But Stark had won out in the end, berating the super soldier mercilessly until he agreed to attend. Steve had wanted him to go as well, pointing out that he would technically already be there since it was in the Tower itself.

"_When's the last time you went to a party, Buck?" _He had asked as his friend scanned over an official document, Delta lying at his feet.

"_Last year_." Alana had 'died' two days later. So he wasn't really too keen on it.

"_She'd want you to come." _That had been Tony's line, the final blow because – deep down – Bucky knew he was right. The Alana he had come to know, before Hydra got a hold of her, would've wanted him to go. She would've been thrilled to see him go to a party, just like she'd been when they went to Stark's New Years' party.

That day seemed like a lifetime ago.

So Bucky Barnes found himself dressed to the nines, his hair just as it was the day he first reported to the one-o-seventh. It was nerve-racking at first, Bucky not knowing many of the people there, but he soon found that talking to some of the older war veterans who were there was relaxing. They welcomed his old World War II stories of the various missions the Howling Commandos went on all those decades ago. It didn't take long for Steve to overhear and join in, the two of them easily slipping back in time, the slang from their time coming out in their sentences.

"You're the one who go the call-girls." Steve accused, the group who had gathered around bursting into laughter at Bucky's innocent face.

"Me? They offered to come for free!" Bucky rolled his eyes, "You never took any of'em out."

"You were the ace hoofer, not me."

"Dames were always stuck on you though," Bucky looked up to Tony, who was leaning over the back of the couch to listen, "After your father made him into this my life was like a terrible nightmare. Dames were always stuck on Steve, I was invisible." His hand came up to cover his face as he shook his head, remembering how Peggy Carter hadn't even glanced his way once.

Everyone around them laughed, Steve clapping Bucky on the shoulder, "Sorry, Buck."

"It was a traumatizing experience."

"I'm sure it was tough."

He got to listen to the other veterans' stories as well, learning more about the Korean and Vietnam Wars; things Alana had gone over with him briefly, but he'd never heard firsthand accounts. At one point, one of the gray haired men snapped his fingers excitedly, looking at Bucky with his eyes gleaming, "Sergeant, do you know that you hold a military record for the furthest shot made with Remington?"

"I do?"

The older man nodded his head vigorously, "Oh yeah, they'd always tell us to try and beat Bucky Barnes' record shot, no one could ever do it."

Bucky vaguely remembered the little contest they'd had one day. Dugan setting out an old can and having Bucky shoot it, getting further and further away with each shot until the sniper missed.

It had taken awhile until he missed.

* * *

She woke up to the feeling of cool sheets wrapped around her naked body, a heavy duvet covering most of her backside. The air was slightly chilly, all else quiet. Her brown orbs opened slowly, squinting at the sunlight that pierced through the thin curtains covering a window.

Alana's eyebrows came together in confusion, her mind becoming more awake as she took in her surroundings.

Was that Boston outside? Looking closer Alana easily recognized the familiar waterway from her childhood. Why was she in Southie?

As if it was an instinct her hand reached out to the other side of the bed, her palm only finding empty – albeit slept in – bedsheets. Her eyes drifted upwards taking in the beige walls of the bedroom, the oak dresser and nightstands on either side of the king size bed she was still in.

Alana's heart skipped a beat at a photograph that sat atop the dresser. It was her and Bucky together, his arms wrapped around her middle as she was laughing, the widest smile she'd ever seen was overtaking his face. His eyes were practically laughing in the photo as well, and she recognized the place the photo was taken as Central Park.

But that's not the part that made her heart skip.

Bucky was in a black tux. And Alana?

She was wearing a wedding dress.

It was an elongated, draped bodice dress, with a multi-tiered skirt that cascaded down. It had rhinestones, but just enough that it was classy, not overdone along the top of the bodice.

Bucky looked so happy.

Alana moved then and swung her legs out of bed, once again becoming aware of her total lack of clothing. She glanced again to the empty space beside her. As she gingerly made her way across the hardwood floor towards the closet, she became aware of what she could hear.

Softly, on the other side of a door that was partially open, the sounds of an old 1940's jazz record was playing. Someone – Bucky, she assumed – was moving dishes around.

Leaning down slowly, she snatched up the first article of clothing she came across, holding it out Alana's lips pressed together when she saw it was Bucky's. She shrugged once to herself before pulling it over her head. It didn't take very long for her to find a pair of, what appeared to be, her own shorts.

Satisfied with what clothing she had found, Alana summoned up enough courage to push the door open, her bare feet silent against the hardwood as she made her way down a hallway. It was curiosity mostly, of how she'd ended up in this life and what it truly was.

She stopped short just at the end of the corridor, which opened up into a living room, and to her right, the kitchen.

He wasn't facing her, but there was a spatula in his hand as Bucky pushed a few pieces of bacon around a frying pan. There was coffee brewing in a pot to his left as well. He wore only a pair of low-resting sweatpants, his back muscles on clear display.

A sudden jingle of metal caught her attention, Alana looking down to see Delta. Her dog was lying down a few feet away from Bucky, his head now lifted as his docked tail wagged back and forth. The hair around his jowls and eyes was starting to turn grey, and he was bigger than she remembered.

Feeling another pair of eyes upon her, Alana looked up, meeting Bucky's soft gaze. He placed the spatula off on the counter, a smile on his face as he made his way over to her, his eyes roaming up and down her body eagerly.

She was too shocked to move when he greeted her with a soft kiss, "Good morning." He mumbled it against her lips, pulling away slowly when she didn't kiss him back. Bucky's head tilted slightly as his eyebrows came together in concern, "Everything alright, doll?" His cybernetic hand came up to rest on her shoulder, massaging it slightly.

"Yeah," She breathed out after a beat of silence. He seemed so happy. The thought made her own lips quirk upwards, "Everything's fine." He kissed her again, though she was prepared this time and kissed him back.

Bucky's other hand came up to rest on her other shoulder. They slide down her arms, coming around her body and then he was lifting her up; Alana's legs wrapping around his waist on instinct as her arms wrapped around his neck. Bucky managed to keep his lips on hers as he backed her up, setting her down on the counter so he stood between her legs.

He pulled away from her with that signature smirk on his face, "You can't distract me like this when I try and make breakfast." They were eye-level with one another from where she now sat, and Bucky leaned forward to press a kiss to her forehead, but made no move to back away.

Alana felt herself smile more, "Sorry." Her fingers played gently with the hairs at the nape of his neck. Bucky's eyes slipped closed at the feeling. She didn't know what to say, didn't know how long they'd been married or what year it was or what they usually did. Her eyes slipped to Delta, and she thought of something to fill the silence, "Did you feed my dog?" Bucky's eyes snapped open at that, amusement swimming in them.

"I thought he was our dog, now?" She made a face that caused Bucky to let out a chuckle, "Yes, I fed him." His blue orbs glanced down, his flesh hand tugging at the hem of his t-shirt a second later, "You own shirts of your own, you know that right?"

Her response came easily, "I like yours." A pop sounded from the frying pan, "You're going to burn breakfast." Bucky's eyes rolled, but he did back away from her, turning on his heel as he picked up his cooking utensil again.

"Wouldn't be the first time." They shared a smile, Alana staying on the counter and watching him contently for a few minutes.

"Hey, Buck."

"Yeah?" He glanced at her over his shoulder as he reached up to grab a can of salt.

"Where's the wedding album?"

His expression turned into one of confusion, his words mirroring that, "Under the television," he pointed to it with a fork, "Where it's always been." She chose to ignore his still concerned look, hopping off the counter and making her way over to the place in question.

Delta struggled slightly as he got up to follow her. Alana chose to stay sitting in front of the television as she took out the big, white photo album, her fingers running over the front cover as Delta lay down directly beside her.

'_James Buchanan Barnes and Brewster Alana Mercer. June 17__th__, 2018.' _

Her eyebrows came together at the date. She carefully flipped open the book, a small smile taking over her face at the first picture.

It was of herself and Clint. The archer was frowning as Alana stood directly in front of him, adjusting the black tie that he wore. By the looks of it Alana hadn't put her dress on yet since she stood in a bath robe, her hair still wet.

Beside it there was a picture of Bucky and Steve. Already in their tuxedos, they each had an arm around the other's shoulders. At their feet sat a younger Delta, his ears perked forwards at whoever was taking the picture.

Glancing at the dog, Alana figured the wedding had to be at least a year ago, going by the grayness on the Doberman's face now and in the photograph.

Alana jumped slightly when a hand touched her shoulder, looking up to see Bucky. He had a plate of bacon in his hand, which he extended towards her as he sat on her other side. He pointed to the picture of herself and Clint, "I've always loved that one."

She just smiled, taking a piece of bacon before flipping the page.

'_The Groomsmen' _was engraved at the top of the page, below it a picture that – yet again – brought a smile to Alana's face.

Bucky stood in the middle, Steve and Tony on his left, Bruce and Thor on his right. It was perhaps the first normal picture she'd ever seen of Tony Stark. Bucky was mid-laugh, his metal hand gripping Bruce's shoulder.

The opposite page was similar, though the title read, '_The Other Side'_. It only took Alana a second to figure out why it didn't say bridesmaids.

Clint Barton stood next to Alana, a wide smirk on his face. He stood beside Darcy Lewis, and Natasha and Pepper stood on the other side of Alana. She was in her wedding dress, Clint in his tux, and the other three wore matching soft green dresses.

"You have no idea how much we made fun of Barton for being a bridesmaid."

"He was my supervising officer!" Alana defended instantly, smacking Bucky lightly on his forearm. All he did was laugh at her.

Bucky balanced the plate of bacon on his knee as they continued to flip through the book. For him, it could have been his hundredth time looking through it, but for Alana it was her first.

They flipped through pages that showed their guests: the Avengers, Maria Hill, Nick Fury, various ex-S.H.I.E.L.D agents that Alana and Bucky had worked with over the years, and even some members of Alana's family. Her cousins were there, their children also in attendance. Thomas was also in a few pictures, but nowhere, not in one single photo, was Alana's mother.

She chose not to comment on it aloud.

Alana still didn't know what was going on, she remembered crushing the remote with her heel, and then she woke up in bed. Three years later at least. With no recollection at all.

"Oh, wait." Bucky's hand came to stop Alana from flipping the page, and she looked to where he was pointing, "That's the first time Steve asked Sharon to dance with'em." Alana smiled at the photograph of Steve Rogers; his hand cautiously extended towards a blonde who was sitting at a table. Bucky looked up at her, his eyes shining, "They're still coming over for dinner Sunday, right?"

Alana had no idea if they were or not, but she chose to nod, "Yeah." She got a kiss to her temple in response.

"Alright, we can keep looking." His metal hand rested over hers as they flipped the page together.

More people, more smiles on every page. Alana actually teared up at the photograph of Clint Barton walking her down the aisle, one even slipping down her face when she saw the next page.

It was Clint handing her over to Bucky, Clint's hand resting on Bucky's shoulder, his other arm still looped through hers. Both men had a smile on their faces though.

It took the two of them an hour to go through every page and finish the entire plate of bacon, Bucky letting Delta lick the excess grease off the pan. He had slipped a few pieces to the dog behind Alana's back throughout the hour, and she'd pretended not to notice.

Bucky got up to clean the dishes as she put the album back in its place, taking one extra moment to look again at the photograph of the two of them sealing their vows. She wondered, fleetingly, how all of this came to be, given the situation she had come from.

A warmth spread through her chest as she looked down at her now-aged dog, and it took her a bit to recognize the old sensation that had been absent for over a year.

Happiness.

Alana clung to it, pushing herself off the floor and making her way back to the kitchen, where Bucky still stood at the sink, his hands covered in suds. She didn't think that his metal arm would do good in water, but it appeared to be fine.

Walking up behind him, Alana wrapped her slender arms around his waist, standing on her tip-toes to rest her chin atop his shoulder and press a kiss to his firm jawline, making his movements still and a smile tug at his lips.

And in the bliss of that imaginary moment, she found the courage to say what she'd always felt in her heart, "I love you."

* * *

Alana came back to consciousness with the feeling of cool fingers brushing her hair back away from her face.

She could tell they didn't belong to Bucky Barnes right away; they were too slender, not calloused enough. It only took a moment for her to figure out who it really was, the reality that whatever world or time she had just been in was all a hoax came crashing down on her like a freight train. She let out a deep breath, surprised at the lump that was suddenly pushing its way up her throat. She swallowed once, her words coming out almost as heavy as her heart felt, "Pietro." His hand stilled, and Alana opened her eyes to be greeted with a cocky smirk on the young man's face.

"Wanda, she's awake." The second Maximoff twin appeared over her brother's shoulder a few seconds later, a smile blooming across her face.

"Alana!" The one in question raised her hand slowly in a mock salute.

"Once again in the flesh." She turned to glare at Pietro, whose hand was still on her face, as she remembered Steve sounding breathless over the communicators, "Did you hit, Cap?"

"Yes."

Alana let out a sigh, knowing there wasn't much she could do about it now, and resided to just a nod of her head. "How long was I out for?"

"Only a day," It was Wanda who spoke up then, her black hair falling over her shoulder in waves, "Uniformed men were coming into the area when we left."

"NATO," Alana glanced at the twins' confused faces, "North Atlantic Treaty Organization. They were there to take the rest of Struker's forces."

"They got the scepter. The Avengers." Pietro still wasn't very pleased with that development, his face showing it more at Alana's flippant response.

"Good." She continued on, "Hydra doesn't need it. You remember what I told you," Her eyes bore into Pietro's, "about your picture?"

"Focus too long on little things and you see what you want." He repeated back, making her grin slightly at him. He crossed his arms over his chest, almost pouting in a way.

"I know that bomb killed your parents, but that wasn't Tony-"

"It said Stark on it!"

"And my new file says Hydra on top but that doesn't mean I belong to them." This was an argument that the two had had many times before. Wanda had been easy to persuade; she wasn't quick to jump to conclusions like her brother.

"He found out about other countries using his weapons and the company stopped manufacturing them. They do energy, biofuels and all that shit." She cut off his expected protests, "We've been over this."

"Fine. But we bring peace to our country." Alana lay her head back on the pillow.

"Yes, peace to your country." That was a small thing she could handle. She let out a sardonic chuckle, peace to a whole country is what she considered small now?

It made her miss the simpler days, when all she had to worry about was if Clint had remembered to turn the oven off.

* * *

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	35. Chapter 34

**Wow, so big thanks to all who reviewed, you're awesome. Seriously we hit over 100! In celebration (and unexpectedly) this chapter is again pretty long! I love it, it turned out better than I hoped for! I hope you guys agree.**

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* * *

"_When you reach the end of your rope, tie a knot and hang on."_

* * *

"So, this is bad." Bucky sat slouching on the couch, his hands hanging limply between his knees.

'_I once had strings…but now I'm free…there are no strings on me!' _Ultron's taunting words bounced around everyone's head over and over again. Ultron had come with a rampage through Stark's home and a promise of 'peace'.

Peace through their extinction.

Sounded wonderful.

"He blew the files we had on Struker." Natasha mentioned flippantly as she walked by, waving a small tablet she held in her hand. She stopped when she was almost out of sight, turning back around slowly.

"What?" Tony asked, looking up from his computer, "Romanoff?"

Natasha sounded thoroughly confused, "He wiped all the files on Alana, too."

"On princess? Why'd he do that?" Tony had his feet up on his desk now, his eyebrows together as he thought it through.

"I don't know, Tony." Natasha's voice was guarded, her heart aching as she thought of her former partner. "We've got to find her soon though."

"We will." Bucky's response was firm. As followed any direct interaction between Natasha and Bucky, the air in the room seemed to thicken with tension.

"We'd better." Natasha looked up, through a series of glass walls. From where the three sat they could see Clint pacing back and forth down a hallway as he spoke on the phone.

The archer had barely slept in days. The bags that were present underneath his eyes were evidence enough of that. He was kicking himself for what happened, wondering how he hadn't seen it, why she wouldn't tell him about anything.

When did he lose her trust?

At what moment was he no longer good enough to her? It was a question that plagued him constantly.

"I don't know how much more Clint can go through."

Steve chose that moment to stride into the room, "Stark, if you created this thing, shouldn't it think like you?"

Tony wasn't very sure where the Captain was going with this, but he shrugged, "Yeah, I guess."

Bucky seemed to catch on, "So what would you do?"

"Protect myself." Was Tony's immediate response. Everyone was silent for a few moments after that, until Tony suddenly snapped his fingers together, "Vibranium!"

"What?" Bucky and Bruce – who had wandered in shortly after the Cap – spoke in unison. Stark was already on his feet, motioning for everyone to follow. He pointed up to Barton, who was off the phone and now just stood alone, his phone stuffed into his pocket.

"Someone get Legolas; he should do something mind-numbing."

* * *

Alana couldn't believe what she was hearing; it made her hands clench into fists at her sides. Pietro was oblivious to that fact though, or he was ignoring her obvious irritation like he usually did, and kept on rambling, "Peace in our time, he told us that." And that made her snap.

"_He's a fucking robot!" _The twins weren't serious, they couldn't be, this was all just some twisted joke. But alas, her silver haired friend was shaking his head.

Pietro tapped his own head with his index finger, "He thinks."

"So did Hitler." Alana's gaze swung over to Wanda, who had remained silent, "Could you read'em?" The telepath shook her head.

"I did not try."

For the first time since she was seventeen, Alana face palmed herself. "That's fantastic. Just real fuckin' peachy. A goddamn _robot _asks you to help him 'bring peace to the earth' and you don't just, I don't know? Think to maybe run a background check?" She was mocking them outright.

"He did say that Stark made him." Pietro supplied, "If that comforts you."

"_Shit!"_ she swore under her breath, her shoulders sagging as she let out a sigh, "It doesn't, because if Tony made'em why isn't the thing in New York?" And then it hit her. "The scepter." She looked up, starring at the twins, "That _thing _came out of the scepter."

Wanda's lips pursed together, and Pietro shrugged, "If it comforts you-"

"I really doubt it will." Alana interrupted him, getting a glare that just made her raise an eyebrow at him. The Sokovian continued regardless.

"His name is Ultron."

"Yeah," Alana nodded once, "Good effort, but that wasn't comforting."

"It was effort." Alana glared at Pietro. The two of them had grown quite close while she trained them, but he knew how to push her buttons. Despite that, she did care for him – for both of the Maximoff twins – and she just wanted what was best for the two.

Most of the time her words didn't support that want.

"I will snap your neck." She threatened, which only made him smirk.

"You'd have to catch me first."

Her lips tugged up slightly, "Sometimes I really didn't miss you two at all."

"This Ultron asked us to help him. Said that he knew we were with you as well." Alana stiffened as Wanda spoke.

"What does he want, specifically?"

"Some metal, build a new suit." Wanda paused, thinking back to her and Pietro's meeting with the robot. "Wakanda."

"Wakanda?" Alana repeated it slowly, knowing she had heard it somewhere. Wanda nodded, and Alana continued to stare straight ahead as Pietro sat beside her, his hand resting on her shoulder. She'd heard of the place before, years ago.

Steve's voice came to mind, and Alana's face morphed into confusion. Steve? Had she talked to him about it? Yes, she knew the answer right away, they had talked about the place. When he just got out of the ice. "The shield." She whispered. "Steve's shield is vibranium." Alana's face dropped, "Ultron wants vibranium."

"Oh," Pietro spoke as though he suddenly remembered something, but Alana had the feeling he had just wanted to not upset her too much and chose to tell her now, "He wants to meet you."

* * *

"This church was built in the middle of the city, so everyone could be equally close to God. I like that, the symmetry, the geometry of belief." Alana stood in the middle of the Sokovian church, the architecture in and of itself was impressive. The high stoned arches and pillars, the complexity of the windows, all showed the signs that hard labor and dedication had been put into the buildings construction.

Though Alana didn't have much time to admire the cathedral's beauty; her mind was still not quite believing that she was talking to a robot. Sure, she had spoken to Jarvis hundreds of times, but that was different.

Jarvis didn't have a complete mind of his own. The monstrosity that sat before her, in the high priest's chair, like he was some sort of god, did.

"Some people don't believe." She pointed out, her voice mirroring her posture as she stood confidently before the creation. Alana was dressed in recently hand-washed, baggy clothing, the dull colored cloths hiding her toned physique. Pietro had found them for her in town, the clothes abandoned near the outskirts of town.

Her uniform had been filthy.

"Well, that's a pity." Ultron laughed, leaning forward from the chair he sat in, "What about you, Brewster? Do you believe?"

She raised an eyebrow at his use of her first name, but answered regardless, "No." Ultron's head tilted to the side, urging her to go on. She didn't like him, his arrogance or his overall personality. He moved in a way that he thought he was intimidating to her, assuming she would elaborate without any prodding. Alana chose to indulge his curiosity and continued, "I believe in myself, in my own actions making a difference in the world." Alana had chosen her words carefully, guiding the conversation in the exact direction in which she wanted it to go.

"You certainly have made a difference." She stood taller, pulling her shoulders back as she looked up at him more, "Joining S.H.I.E.L.D and training directly with STRIKE Team: Delta. It was unprecedented. You not going to the Academy. The missions you helped to accomplish, you saved a lot of lives Brewster." If she was shocked at how he knew so much, it didn't show on her face. She had been trained to remain stoic, "But then again, you took away a lot." His eyes closed, the robot humming softly.

Was he downloading her past? Alana started, just slightly, at the thought of it. She knew to keep her mouth shut though.

"Ah, yes." Ultron opened his eyes again, "Seemed to all go downhill after Batswana. What happened there? There is absolutely no record in existence. It's quite frustrating." He was trying to get a rise out of her, to make her crack. All he needed was a crack that he could slip inside. Into her mind and play with it, the way several people had before.

"That's classified, esoteric knowledge only." Her voice was void of any emotion.

He smiled.

Maybe, she couldn't really tell in the church's darker lighting. His metal features made it difficult as well, and Alana found herself being thankful that it was only Bucky's _arm _that was metal.

"But it interests me _so much_." Alana clasped her hands behind her back, rolling her eyes openly at him, "Everything changed for you. A sickness, then Sergeant Barnes, they took you off the shelf-"

She snapped at him, "I was never put on the shelf." She defended herself immediately. Ultron's hands rose in defense, and she still couldn't believe he was a robot. Who did he think he was? Acting offended at the thought that he had angered her. But it was enough to satisfy him, and then, unknowingly, he showed a crack that let her slip in.

"Fine. Answer one question. Why'd you betray them? The Avengers?"

She knew not to answer right away. It would make her seem over-eager. "What's it to you?"

"The human mind is fascinating; they were – by the looks of what I've seen – a family to you. And you threw it all away."

In some regard, he was right. She had thrown it all away, but Alana held on to the hope that she'd be able to pick up the pieces again. They would understand; they _had _to understand.

Alana's gaze didn't deviate away from Ultron's face for a second as she gave her response, and when she spoke, she was telling the truth, "Hydra had a chip implanted in my brain. They could basically control me, I needed it destroyed. If it risked my life the Avengers wouldn't have had the guts to do it. So I took it into my own hands." She shrugged once, "They gave up on me once, they'd do it again. Besides, I needed to get Wanda and Pietro out of there."

She thought Ultron was smiling at her response, but she still couldn't really tell, "Such a perfect response."

* * *

Four days later – Wakanda, Africa

* * *

Alana stood in the shadows, watching Ultron negotiate with Ulysses Klaue. It made her angry, first seeing Klaue, since she had spent months a few years back trying to put him behind bars. His illegal trade of vibranium wasn't exactly well hidden, but he covered his tracks up on paper, so she had been sent in to try and get physical evidence.

When she had gotten close, he'd simply blown up the factory. Alana had found the act rather rude of him, especially since she had been inside at the time.

"What do you have with you? Two children that have been mutated?" Klaue let out a scoff, knowing he could take out Pietro and Wanda.

"There's one more," Klaue raised his eyebrows, but Ultron paused before continuing, making the dealer sweat just a bit, "an old friend of yours."

Alana rolled her eyes, quickly loading the gun that she held in her right hand before stepping into view. "It really pisses me off when people try and blow me up." Her words were slow and calculated, Alana smirking before lifting her gun to have it aimed at Ulysses' head. Workers around them froze, gazes swinging between Alana, Ulysses, and Ultron.

The African grinned tightly at the robot, "What was your offer?"

The two discussed prices as they continued to walk, being led up several flights of stairs. Alana lowered her weapon, walking between Pietro and Wanda as they followed like dogs. She let her mind wander, while still keep a check on her surroundings. Each time one of Klaue's workers glanced her way she would glare right back at them, her fingers tightening around her gun. They passed a supply container, Ultron taking one out and tossing it back to them; Wanda caught it easily.

"What's the plan?" She barely heard Pietro whisper to her. He had waited until they were around machinery to ask.

"Maybe just wing it." Alana mumbled, not entirely sure. She couldn't shoot Ultron, that probably wouldn't work, and if it didn't she'd be dead.

"Wing it?" Neither Sokovian understood. Alana smirked slightly, shrugging her shoulders once.

When the three looked back to Ultron, he was paying Klaue as the dealer signaled his men to collect the vibranium, "But I always say, "Keep your friends rich and your enemies rich, and wait to find out which is which."

_Did he just? _Alana had heard that exact phrase hundreds of times. Apparently, so had Ulysses. "Stark…"

"What?" Alana lowered her free hand to place it on Wanda's hip, softly pushing her backwards.

"Tony Stark used to say that…to me." Ulysses's eyes narrowed sharply as he rounded on Ultron, "You're one of his." They were almost to an overpass now, but stopped short at Klaue's accusation.

"What? I'm not... I'm not! You think I'm one of Stark's puppets, his hollow men? I mean, look at me, do I look like Iron Man? Stark is not..." Alana's eyes widened as Ultron suddenly cut off one of Klaue's arms. Beside her, the twins stiffened. All the workers had stilled below as well, hearing the man's scream.

Alana took another step back, her other hand finding the knife on her side as she tightened her grip on her gun as well. Ultron spun around to look at her when he caught sight on her movements. He put his hands up, moving them in a way that suggested he wanted everyone to calm down, "I'm sorry. I am sor... Ooh! I'm sure that's going to be okay. I'm sorry, it's just I don't understand... Don't compare me with Stark! He's a sickness!"

Alana's head snapped upwards when she heard the jet propulsions that her mind automatically linked to the Iron Man suit. "Aww Junior, you're going to break your old man's heart…"

Thor and Captain America walked out from the other side, flanking Tony on either side as they stood across the bridge. Steve's eyes flickered to Alana, confusion and hurt passing through them for a brief moment. Wanda threw the case of vibranium she had been holding to the ground, the container clanking against the metal grate.

Natasha, Clint, and Bucky wouldn't be too far away. If they were working as usual, Natasha would be stalking up on their left or right, Bucky trying to get around and come up behind them. Clint would be positioned above with his bow.

She doubted they would deviate from the plan much, even if they knew she'd be here.

"If I have too." Ultron turned around slowly to face Stark, his shoulders pulled back. Wanda threw the metal to the ground, then extended both of her hands, palms out. Alana slipped her knife out of its sheath on her thigh, spinning it around her index finger a few times before gripping it properly.

They had to know that she would fight, and her movements were her own way of warning her friends. Thor stepped up closer to Tony, "No one has to break anything."

"Clearly, you've never made an omelet." Alana resisted the urge to roll her eyes, something that Pietro didn't hold back in doing. She watched Cap's eyes drift to him and she mentally screamed at Pietro. If he acted like a child, they would treat him like one.

"He beat me by one second." She changed her mind at Tony's statement. Stark acted like a child, Pietro would be fine.

Pietro moved to walk forwards, Alana catching him by pressing the knife's blade to his palm. He looked back at her. She had spent enough time with him to know what he wanted to do, and who was she to deny it to him? Alana nodded, moving her hand back to her side. "Ah, Mr. Stark." Pietro continued walking closer, Wanda following. "This is funny, makes you uncomfortable." Thor shifted, Alana glancing to her side to check for Natasha.

She didn't see her.

"Remind you of old times?"

"This was never my life."

"You two can still walk away from this." Alana was almost hurt by Steve's words, she felt excluded, but then he looked directly at her, "You can come home."

Wanda nodded her head, "Oh, we will."

"If you believe in peace, then let us keep it."

Ultron started to walk towards the trio again at Thor's words, "I think you're confusing peace with quiet."

Tony gave a jerk of a nod, "Uh huh, what's the vibranium for?"

Alana knew the robot was smiling without having to see his face, "I'm glad you asked that, because I wanted to take this time to explain," Ultron raised his hand up, waving it in a circle once, "my evil plan." In the next moment Ultron had blasted Tony, two of Ultron's robots from the Iron Legion falling in from nowhere to take on Steve and Thor. Stark was thrown into the wall behind himself.

To his credit he recovered quickly, blasting directly at Ultron. The two were soon in an aerial fight. Alana watched for a moment as Steve was pushed against the railing, a robotic hand at his throat. Thor threw the Iron Legion soldier that had been on his back to the ground, smashing the robot's head with his hammer before ripping the other off Steve and disposing of it in a similar fashion.

The action seemed to spark Pietro into moving, the silver-haired man punching Thor to the ground before going on. Alana looked to Wanda quickly, "Follow Ultron's plan." She whispered in a hurry, only waiting to see the girl nod before she turned on her heel and sprinted down the hallway.

It didn't take long for Alana to find something to do, Klaue's soldiers firing at her right as she came into view. She took them out quickly, her mind going blank as she fought.

The movements were so fluid, they came effortlessly as she dodged a punch before grabbing a soldier in a headlock and flipping him onto his back at her feet. A bullet through his brain ceased his movements.

She turned, eyes widening as an arrow flew past her head. Alana looked to the level above her, finding the blonde archer right away, another arrow already strung to fire at her.

"_What's the hardest part?" A newly recruited Alana Mercer sat on the workout bench, a bag of ice pressed to her now swollen jaw. _

_Clint was starting to worry on if she would ever be good at hand-to-hand combat, but she'd only been training for five months. It would take time. His ever-present grin faded a little off his face, "You sure you wanna know?"_

_The nineteen-year-old girl smirked back, "If I'm in this, then I want to know all I can." Clint rolled his eyes, knowing that was something Natasha had surely advised her to do. _

"_When the person you trust most," He started, looking away from her to stare down at the floor, "when they're the one pointing a weapon at you." He looked back at her now, "And you still have to make that call on if to fire. That's the hardest part." _

Both of them thought of that conversation now, as Clint already had a clear shot and Alana raised her gun. Neither of them ever missed.

"Stark's outside." It was Bucky's voice that pushed her to run, her gun dropping just a second before Clint lost sight of her. Alana swung herself over the platform landing, falling to the level below her.

She landed face to face with one of the Iron Legion, "That boy may need some backup." Ultron's voice came through, and Alana just nodded her head.

She found Pietro just in time to watch him punch Steve in the face, the Captain lying motionless for a second. Thor threw his hammer, Pietro easily dodging it. Alana heard herself shout out when the boy paused, "_Pietro_! N-" She was too late, he grabbed a hold of the hammer, being flown along with it and falling to one of the levels below. Alana rushed to the edge, peering down to see him lying dazed – but otherwise alive – in a pile of crates two floors down.

Alana turned her attention to Thor, who stalked towards her, swinging his hammer. "Lady Alana, I do not wish to-" She was faster than the Avengers had thought she was, easily moving underneath the god and slamming her foot into his stomach, the force even driving through his armor and making him stumble backwards.

Her fighting style was different, more accurate, her blows were harder. And she knew how Thor fought. She used physical attacks until she had his hammer away from him, then pulled out the knife, swiping at him as he blocked her blows.

Thor grabbed a hold of her right arm, his jaw clenched as he pushed her arm back. Crossing her left arm over her right, Alana dropped the blade, catching it in her free hand a moment later and driving forwards, the blade cutting up Thor's unarmored side.

She would've heard him scream if a metal arm hadn't grabbed her from behind, wrapping around her neck. On instinct, Alana drove her foot downwards, scraping her boot along Bucky's shin before stomping on his foot. It got him to take a step back, just enough for her to drive back an elbow into his gut.

Blade still in hand, she flipped it so it could drive into flesh. Bucky let go then, flipping backwards to put space between them. Alana glanced behind herself, making sure Thor was still down before looking back to the Winter Soldier.

Her dream crossed her mind. How vivid it had been, but she shoved it away.

Bucky and Alana faced off with one another, Alana crouched slightly, her weight on the balls of her feet. Her chest rose and fell with each breath she took, the rhythm not staggering once before she charged at Bucky.

Her move was unexpected, which she had been going for, and he ducked down, cringing as he felt her roll over his back. At the last moment his metal hand grabbed her ankle, yanking her back in front of him. Alana's head slammed against the metal. He leaned down towards her, a hand going to his belt where he kept his own blade. When he was a few feet away she moved, pushing herself up quickly and wrapping her legs around his neck. Bucky's metal hand was still on her ankle as he desperately tried to yank her off.

It was the same move Natasha had done to him in New York.

Though Alana seemed like she had more practice with it, using her own momentum and lunging forwards, her head ducking so it wouldn't slam against the metal again as Bucky toppled forwards. Scrambling off him, Alana looked up to see Wanda waiting behind a corner.

Alana made her exit, slamming her knife into Bucky's cybernetic arm before climbing onto the railing and jumping up, her hands easily catching the edge of the floor above them, and pulling herself up.

She desperately tried not to cringe when she heard him yell out in pain. Ignored the fact that _she _had caused that pain.

"_I'll never hurt you." _She had promised him that.

Alana shoved the guilt away from her mind, desperately trying not to think about it and just focus on fighting. She paused, resting with her hands on the railing for only a second.

It only took a second for one of Klaue's soldiers to shoot at her, the bullet imbedding in her side, right next to her hip bone.

Alana's leg gave out as pain shot through her body. She got her gun out, looking over towards where the shot had been fired. The soldier was easy to spot, and it only took a few moments for Alana to shoot him in the head.

"Mother_fucker_!" She hissed under her breath, hobbling through the nearest door and into another room. Alana limped over to the desk, resting her elbow on it so she could take weight off her left side. Lifting up her shirt, she cringed on the entry wound.

Alana didn't even get a minute to rest when Clint came crashing – quite literally - through the ceiling. Plaster pieces littered the floor, other debris filling the room as well. Clint groaned, his eyes opening slowly as he stretched out from the curled up position he had landed in.

"Well, this is awkward." Clint's eyes met hers in the next instant, softening when he saw the pain that was written across her features.

He had seen Alana in pain more times than he would've liked. Had seen her on the brink of death before too. To her credit, she handled getting hurt with much more poise now than she had when she was still a teenager.

It was the first time Clint's mind told him she was easier to take out while she was hurt though. He would've thought she could read minds if he didn't know better, Alana slowly reaching down to draw her gun out just after he finished the thought.

Her face scrunched up in pain, her left leg trembling as she held the gun loosely in her hand. He could see the blood seeping through her clothes.

"You're shot." He observed, getting a coy grin from her.

"You fell through the ceiling." Alana hopped to prop herself up more, wincing as she did so. It would take an hour before the wound started to heal itself.

If she didn't pass out first, she thought, as the edges of her vision darkened. "Alana!" Clint started to push himself up, wincing as his limbs protested. "I'm getting too old for this," he grumbled, walking slowly towards Alana.

She lifted the gun up more, her grip tightening. Clint hesitated, "You won't shoot me."

"Do you _really _wanna test that?"

"You would've done it already." She didn't answer him, instead looking out the office window.

Where was Pietro?

Clint took her in then. The scared teenager he had rescued from a bad situation now stood before him, pointing a gun at his head. She had scars that littered her body, emotional and psychological scars that no one could see and no one knew how deep those truly were. She'd been taken prisoner on four separate occasions, seen her friends die in front of her, fallen into an unknown substance that changed her genetic makeup, battled an army of aliens, integrated not just _Captain America _but _Bucky Barnes _back into modern society, killed hundreds of people, and learned how to live as a lair. She was bleeding after being shot and still had the strength to stand before him and hold up her weapon. Her long hair that had been pulled back was coming out, loose strands sticking to her now sweaty face.

Would she have been better off he if had just left her alone all those years ago? She had trusted him so much. They had been a family: him, Alana, and Natasha.

And he didn't even know how he had ended up on this end of the gun. So he asked her.

Alana gave him a sad smile, "I had to get that chip outta my head,"

"We were going to do that." Clint reminded her, taking a step back as she raised the gun higher. From far off, they heard a roar cut through the air.

Bruce.

"Were you? You wouldn't give up on me? Like you didn't give up hope that I was still alive?" She scoffed as pain flashed across Clint's face, "You left me there. You were my supervising officer, you said you'd never give up on me. Not until you had a body as proof." She swallowed the lump that was in her throat, "Some promise, wasn't it, Clint?"

When had he lost her?

A rush of wind filled the room, the silver haired young man appearing beside Alana. Clint didn't move as the other man carefully gathered Alana into his arms, being mindful of her wound.

Pietro spared the archer a glance, smirking at him once, "Keep up, old man." Then they were both gone.


	36. Chapter 35

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything but Alana.**

* * *

"_Comrades: There is no stronger bond between men than those who served in combat."_

* * *

Alana pressed her face into the side of Pietro's neck as he ran, tears fighting to fall from her eyes as the words she had thrown at Clint repeated over and over again in her mind.

"_Some promise, wasn't it, Clint?" _She saw the pure hurt flash through his eyes again. She hadn't known how betrayed she had felt about the situation until then, until she actually started talking about it.

The worst part was that she had meant it. Every word.

Her body shifted slightly, Alana gasping in pain. "Sorry." She barely heard Pietro, his voice getting caught in the wind around them.

Seconds later they stopped, Alana looking up and not really recognizing their surroundings. They were on top of mountain, the city now far off in the distance. Smoke rose from it, Alana shaking her head in dismay.

"You went after Banner?" Her voice was weak, and Pietro nodded as he placed her on the ground gently.

"That was the plan." Alana didn't like it, making Bruce change into the other guy. She knew the scientist didn't like it.

She couldn't really be mad at the twins for carrying out what she told them. Alana looked over, watching Wanda walk slowly out of the trees, looking slightly dazed. "The archer got me with an arrow." She explained on seeing Alana's worried expression.

Alana tried to grin, failing miserably, "He's not a fan of mind control."

The three sat in silence, looking out at the city as another building fell to the ground. It was Wanda who spoke up first, "What do we do now?"

Alana was still bleeding, her vision drifting in and out of focus. "Find somewhere safe. I don't know if they'd take us in, even if we come to help. B-but they'll go," She paused, taking in a few deep gulps of air, closing her eyes tightly once as her vision tilted slightly. "Imma pass out soon." She told the twins, "Barton's f-farm."

"The archer is a farmer?" Pietro was completely confused, which made Alana smirk.

She had been there before, quite a few times actually. Alana was one of the few who knew of Clint Barton's family. About Laura, about the kids. She'd spent holidays with them, celebrating some birthdays too. If the team couldn't go to New York, she knew Clint would take them there.

"Yeah, h-he'll tak'em there." Alana glanced at her hip, grimacing once more as even more of her vision went dark. "Follow." Her voice drifted at the end, her eyes falling completely closed as she succumbed to the darkness.

* * *

"Dad!" Clint bent down to scoop up his son as he ran into his arms, ignoring the shocked expressions of the rest of the team.

"Those are just…smaller agents." Tony glanced at Bucky, who stood beside him. The assassin shook his head, silently disagreeing with the billionaire.

"Is Aunty Nat here?" A little girl bounced up and down in excitement.

"Why don't you come ask her?" Natasha smiled as she gathered the girl into her arms, resting her on her hip. Clint turned to the rest of the team, who still looked shell shocked.

"Guys, this is Laura, my wife, and these are my kids." Clint wrapped an arm around Laura, "This is the team." She lifted a hand as a wave, feeling slightly out of place in her own home.

"Thank you for letting us stay, ma'am." Steve ducked his grin slightly, his gratitude genuine. Laura seemed to relax a bit more.

"Of course."

It felt awkward, being led around Barton's home; each Avenger being shown a room they could stay in for the duration of their visit. Thor left soon after their arrival, but it didn't really surprise anyone.

After he had showered Bucky wandered downstairs, finding himself in the living room and taking a spot on a well-worn couch. Steve and Tony were outside, helping chop firewood while Clint worked on repairing the porch railing.

It wasn't surprising that Bucky's thoughts drifted to Alana, his flesh hand coming up to rub the spot where her knife had been driven into his prosthetic. It had hurt, electric charges running through his whole body as the blade had severed some wires, but he had just yanked it out. Bucky thought he'd ask Tony to fix it up later that night, for now Bucky didn't mind the pain.

He glanced around the room, children's toys littering the rug and coffee table surface. Little knick-knacks that Bucky assumed Clint had acquired on his missions took up almost every shelf surface. When he saw the picture frames, Bucky stood up to get a closer look.

Of course he found Alana first. His flesh hand moved slowly as he picked it up, bringing it closer to his face for closer inspection. She was sitting crossed legged on a carpet, and a quick glance was enough for Bucky to see it was in the very living room he stood in. Clint's son was in her lap, Alana laughing at the little boy as she held his wrists in each of her hands. There was laughter not only on her face, but in her eyes.

They were brighter than he'd ever seen them, clearer in a way. Given that the boy in her lap was only a toddler, Bucky guessed the photograph had been taken years ago.

"That was nine years ago." The sudden voice to his right made Bucky's whole body go rigid, his head snapping up to see Clint's wife standing in the doorway. At his reaction, she placed a hand apologetically over her chest, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to frighten you."

Bucky let out a breath, "That's alright ma'am. Didn't hear you walk up is all." His response surprised her, mostly because she thought he would just nod. She took it as an invitation to step closer to the super soldier, smiling when she could see more of the picture.

"It was the first time Clint brought her here. She and Cooper hit it off right away." Bucky looked back at Alana's face in the picture. Laura was quiet for a moment before speaking up, "I like to think I know her pretty well," She offered, gaining Bucky's attention again, "And if what Clint told me is true, then she'll come back. She's not one to abandon people she cares about." At Bucky's bewildered expression she let out a laugh. "Clint told me she's alive."

"Isn't that classified?"

"I'm his wife. Tells me everything." They shared a soft smile before Laura reached up for another picture, bringing it down and showing Bucky. It was one of Alana in their front yard, Clint's daughter riding on her back as Cooper chased after them. "This was a few years later. I think she's twenty-five in this picture. Both Lila and Cooper adore her."

She was wearing a long sleeved flannel, the picture catching her mid-stride as Lila had her small hands buried in the assassin's long hair. Again, she was laughing, her smile so wide that dimples could be seen on her cheeks.

"Do they know?" Bucky asked in a quiet voice, surprised again when the woman nodded. He looked at her, tilting his head a bit in silent question.

"Their father is an Avenger. We didn't tell them the whole truth. Just that there had been a mix-up and Alana had just been kept away again."

"Kept away?"

Laura nodded somberly, "That's what we told them when she was in Batswana. Didn't want to, but kids are pretty perceptive, they knew something was wrong. It just stuck." Bucky's eyes drifted over the rest of the array of photographs. Most were of just the kids, though some were of Clint and Laura. Natasha was in a number of them, and then there were more of Alana. "She really is like family." Bucky's lips pulled up slightly, "She just." Laura paused, searching for the right words to say, "She deserves so much more."

Bucky smiled, putting the photograph back down carefully. "Yeah," He agreed, "She does."

* * *

The Avengers were all eating dinner when there was a knock on the front door. Everyone, including the kids, were suddenly very still. The light-heartedness that had been in the air disappearing as soon as the two thuds reverberated throughout the house.

"Was anyone expecting company?" Tony tried to joke, but Clint's face was still somber. He always tried to avoid bringing his family into his work. It was his number one priority.

So there was no humor in his voice when he answered shortly, "No." Clint turned to his wife, trying to offer a gentle smile. It faltered when two more knocks sounded. "It'll be alright." The archer pushed his seat back, standing up from the table to make his way to the front door. The blinds had already been closed for the night, so he couldn't see who was there.

Clint paused when his hand was on the doorknob, wondering – for a brief moment – if it could just be someone from town. But his gut told him that would be too much of a coincidence with the Avengers being there.

Taking a short breath, Clint opened the door, his eyes narrowing as he recognized the silver haired man who stood there. Clint's hand was already halfway to the knife he hid above the doorway when he saw the look in Pietro's eyes.

The boy was scared.

Seeing Barton's quick movements, the Sokovian held out his hands, "Please. I mean no harm."

"Barton-" Clint glanced back to see Steve standing in the doorway, the Captain ending his sentence when he saw Pietro. "What'd you want, kid?"

"That's what I was just gunna ask'em, Rogers." Both men looked to Pietro expectantly.

"It's not easy to explain. But," He turned, pointing a hand quickly to the barn, "My sister is in the barn, hope you do not mind." His words came out faster as he tried to explain, his English not the best in the world, but both Steve and Clint understood. "We tried to help her but," Pietro shook his head.

"Out with it!" Natasha had joined the party, standing just behind Clint now. She didn't like having the enhanced – who they just fought against – so close to Clint's family. Literally on his front porch.

"Alana is hurt. Bad. She will not wake up." Bucky had started to get up from the table when he heard Natasha, and at Pietro's words he was spurred into action.

Steve caught his arm as he went to shove by, clearly about to head to the barn. The Captain held Bucky in place with a glance, "Why should we help you?"

Pietro's eyes widened, "She is your friend. Isn't she?"

"She just fought a battle against us." Natasha pointed out, crossing her arms over her chest, "So did you and your sister." Pietro shook his head.

"No, I mean, yes, yes we did." He ducked his chin once, "But Alana's plan. The whole time. I-" He huffed, "Please help her, she can explain if she wakes up."

That was enough for Clint, the archer pushing past Pietro and heading in the direction of the barn. Natasha followed her partner, but when Bucky went to move forwards, Steve caught his arm. "Let this be between them for now." His voice was low, and his words made Bucky's jaw tense slightly.

He wanted to see her. He hadn't forgiven her, he wasn't sure when he'd do that, but he was worried. Bucky still cared about her, he wanted to help. "It was always just them, Buck, for the longest time." Steve's gaze drifted to one of the picture displays, as though to explain himself.

Bucky let out a sigh, his shoulders sagging in silent acceptance. He turned to Laura, who stood just behind them, "Do you need help with the dishes, ma'am?"

Outside, Clint and Natasha shouldered past the door into the barn. Wanda's head snapped up at the sound, a sigh of relief escaping her when she noticed who it was. Alana was lying a top a blanket in front of the younger woman, her head on a blanket they had found on one of the work benches.

Natasha strode up to Alana's still body quickly, kneeling down and pressing her fingers to the side of Alana's neck. The redhead glanced up at Barton, "She's alive. I just don't understand," Natasha shook her head, "She was only shot. She's been through worse and came out fine."

"They did…experiments on her." Wanda supplied, her lips pulling down into a frown, "While we were together. Tested why her genes were different. Said they wanted to extract it."

Clint was shaking his head, "S.H.I.E.L.D tried that, after she fell into that plant. Said it was impossible."

"They did not have the scepter, yes?" Pietro had a point. Clint and Natasha exchanged a worried glance, Natasha moving her hands down to lift up Alana's shirt, getting a closer look at the entry wound that the bullet had inflicted. "We took bullet out." Natasha nodded, removing the makeshift bandage that had been taped over the wound.

"Did she pass out before that?" Wanda nodded in answer to Clint' question. "Alright, when she passes out she's usually out longer than…unenhanced people…but if they ran tests on her."

There was a soft knock, everyone looking over to see Bruce lingering by the entrance to the barn. "She should be put on fluids." He told them, his hands wringing together in front of his body. Bruce looked to Wanda and Pietro, "Hello."

"Hey, kid." Pietro looked up at Clint, "How'd you know where this place was?"

"She told us. Said you may help. We never," He paused, "We never planned to help Ultron completely. He promised us peace, but Alana did not trust him. We planned to help you, but Ultron's army was bigger than we thought."

"You were just trying to stay alive in there?" Natasha didn't seem like she fully believed the story, "Then why play with our minds?"

"If you were not rattled, he would have known." Wanda dipped her head, "I am sorry. It was not easy." Their confused expressions made her explain, "I see it too."

"Let's get her inside." Clint slowly started to gather Alana into his arms, looking to Natasha as he did so, "Can you make sure the kids are busy? I'll put her in the spare room next to mine." The Russian nodded, moving almost silently out of the barn to go back to the house. Barton looked to the Sokovians next, his mouth twisting slightly, "Thanks, uh," He didn't trust them, didn't know them well enough to invite them into his home.

Wanda seemed to understand, "We can stay in your ship," She nodded in the direction of the quinjet, "if that is alright."

Clint paused, looking back at the house and seeing Steve standing out on the porch. The archer inclined his head towards the twins, the Captain nodding before he started to make his way towards the group. "Cap'll go with you. Tell him what happened." Clint only waited long enough for the twins to agree before striding towards the house, pausing only a moment when the Captain reached out to rest his hand briefly on Alana's forehead.

Clint Barton was careful not to jostle Alana too much as he walked up the porch and into the house. He could hear Laura upstairs with the kids, on the opposite end of the house that he was taking Alana too. The kids didn't need to see Alana like this; she wouldn't want them too.

Bucky stood in the kitchen with Tony, his eyes finding Alana's still body in Clint's arms when the two came into the house. His chest clenched, but he didn't go to move towards her at all. "Barton-" Tony's voice was filled with concern as well, taking on a tone that the Avengers didn't hear very often.

Clint didn't even pause, he kept moving towards the stairs, "She's gunna be fine."

* * *

Alana woke up only seven hours later, an IV stuck in her arm and wool blankets covering her body. Bruce had cleaned out the bullet wound before rewrapping it properly.

Her hip still ached when she came back to consciousness, but she gave no physical indication of it. She didn't open her eyes or adjust her breathing until she recognized the sound of Clint's pacing.

Natasha was sitting by her side in a rocking chair, the Russian smiling softly at Alana when her eyes opened. "Hey," Clint was by her side in the next second, a relieved breath passing his lips.

Alana didn't smile back, didn't know what to say to either of them. "You really stayed out pretty long for a gunshot." To anyone else Clint's words were a bad attempt at poorly timed humor, but it meant more to Alana.

They weren't mad at her.

Her voice was hoarse when she replied, "I just like to be dramatic."

"Well," Natasha rolled her eyes, "Lay off the theatrics for a bit." Alana saw the shift in her eyes, giving away that the next questions wouldn't be as light hearted, "What do you remember?"

Her answer came out in a whisper, "Everything." Alana wished she didn't remember any of it.

The betrayal she had seen in Bucky's eyes replayed over and over again, like a broken record whenever she blinked. Alana couldn't take it, couldn't take the pain or the expectations. A few tears escaped without her consent, rolling down her cheeks.

Natasha wiped them away gently, not commenting on them as the younger agent spoke, her voice choked, "I, I can't. Tasha, I can't." The Russian ran a hand over Alana's forehead, pushing her hair back.

"It's fine, младшая сестра." The red-head smiled softly, Alana's gaze softening as she said the nickname that hadn't been used for years.

Clint reached over, taking a hold of Alana's hand and squeezing it.

The three of them had been to hell and back together. More times than any of them cared to count.

Alana clutched to his hand like a vice, "After all this," Her gaze met Natasha's and Clint's in turn, "After. I'm done." Her throat closed up again, her next words coming out in a whisper, "Does that make me selfish?"

"No." Natasha's tone left no room for argument, "No one will judge you for hanging up the belt. If they do," The Russian shrugged, "I'll take care of them."

They were silent for a minute, a few more tears slipping from Alana's eyes, Natasha wiping each one away. "Where's everyone else?"

"Twins are in the quinjet," Clint let her know, "Everyone else's asleep. Well," his head inclined towards the door, "Bucky and Steve take turns waking up and pacing the hallway."

Alana's eyes softened, "Steve," Her thoughts were of immediate concern. She had been his first friend waking up from the ice, and she'd just betrayed him. Another promise broken, "How's he?" Her words caught at the end, Alana grimacing as she started coughing. A quick look from Natasha sent Clint out of the room and downstairs to get a glass of water.

Natasha waited for Alana's coughing fit to end before answering, "He'll be alright. We're all a bit rattled."

"Natasha, I'm sorry." Alana's words were pleading, "I'm _so sorry_." The red-head covered her mouth with a hand before she could apologize more.

"You did what you thought was right," She ignored Alana's shaking head, "What you had to to survive." Her hand found Alana's, squeezing it tightly. "We'll get you outta this. Just like we always do. Besides," She smirked at the younger agent, "When has STRIKE: Team Delta ever failed?"

Alana let out a soft laugh, Clint walking quietly back into the room, a glass of water in hand, "Budapest, Syria, Oman, those are just off the top of my head." Natasha made a face, rolling her eyes at the archer.

"Those were all your fault, Clint."

* * *

**Hope you all liked it! Don't forget to review, they mean a lot!**


	37. Chapter 36

**Author's Note: PLEASE PLEASE read the note at the end of this chapter, it's super important! Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed, you're the literal best. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything, sadly.**

* * *

_"You wear guilt like shackles on your feet."_

* * *

The Beatles were playing out of an old stereo Clint had dug out from the attic, Alana's fingers drumming along to the beat as she starred at the man who sat on the end of the bed. His bulking figure made it so her feet were sinking into the dip he had created in the mattress.

Blue eyes drifted once again to the fluid bag that still hung above her, the IV stuck into her arm, before they once again landed on Alana's face. There used to be a point at which people would describe her appearance as soft, but that had been years ago. Now stress lines were evident, the lines between her eyebrows almost a constant thing.

There hadn't been anyone to wipe them away – like she used to do with first Steve, then Bucky - in a long time.

Her expression had hardened, but she was still a looker. She drew people in, they wanted to ask why she looked the way she did. What had caused the almost eerie look that never quite fully disappeared from her eyes. The laugh lines were faded, her dimples practically wiped out of existence. No, Alana Mercer didn't look like a person who was about to get a happy ending. She didn't look like she was hoping for one either. She looked like a puzzle, a mystery that so many wanted to figure out, if for no other goal than to see how beautiful she could be if she ever fully smiled.

Steve had always thought her pretty. He could remember her back when they first met. An agent who had blatantly ignored protocol and snuck into his room to explain the situation right away. She had thought that trying to trick Steve into thinking it was still 1945 was just plain wrong. She wouldn't stand for it, so she had taken action. She had picked the route that would benefit _Steve_, not thinking much on how Fury would tear her a new one for it later that night.

Steve Rogers thought of that now as he looked at her. "I talked to the twins."

Alana's mouth twitched in irritation, "Wanda and Pietro Maximoff. They have names, Rogers." Steve nodded his head.

"Wanda and Pietro," He corrected himself, "They explained everything. Best they could, at least." Alana's gaze didn't falter away as she listened, watching Steve look down at his hands, wringing them together.

It was a nervous habit of his, and just like she'd done those first few months that he was out of the ice, she stilled the movement by placing one of her hands on top. The Captain looked back up at her, his lips pulling up just a bit in a sad smile, "They couldn't tell me why you didn't tell us before." He shrugged his broad shoulders once.

"If I told you, then you would've tracked me down. Hydra would've caught on and then they may have wiped all my memories away." Alana turned one of Steve's hands over, threading her fingers with his, "I'd rather fight you and know who you are than forget everything. Though I never liked the isolation they kept me in, I rather liked being kept company by the ghosts of memories that I had with all of you."

"I could've-" Steve's words died on his lips when she raised her eyebrows at him.

"It wasn't on you. Not your job, Steve. I'm a big girl," She patted their joined hands with her free hand once, "I can take care of myself."

The blonde smiled wryly, "Says the girl with an IV and a gunshot wound."

"I'll be good as new by tomorrow morning." They both knew she was right. The two lapsed into a comfortable silence then, just listening to the music that filled the space around them.

Alana had seen Tony earlier that morning, the scientist barging into the room as soon as Clint had told him she was awake. They'd had an actually heart-to-heart, the scientist not really understanding why Alana hadn't trusted him to try and get the chip out of her brain.

He had pointed out that it's still there, but she'd assured him it was now just a trivial fact about her.

Tony had stayed almost an hour with her before leaving, mock scolding her for never telling him Barton was married on his way out.

She had seen Laura after that, the two women catching up and talking about everything except for Alana's line of work. The kids had been told Alana needed her rest, but really she just wasn't ready to face them yet.

Alana didn't think she deserved to be looked at like she was a hero just yet, and that's how Clint's children always made her feel.

So that only left Bucky.

"How is he?" It didn't take a genius to figure out she was asking Steve about his best friend. The super soldier frowned slightly, letting out a sigh.

"Considering everything. He's alright." Alana nodded her head, knowing she was to blame for practically everything he was going through. "You wanna see'em?"

"No." She didn't even think about it, which just made Steve frown even more. Alana moved her hands away from Steve's, cracking her knuckles as she explained herself, "I don't know what I'd say."

"Sorry," Her head snapped up to give Steve a surprised look. He was rarely so blunt with her. "Maybe? Just a suggestion."

"I take responsibility for my actions,"

"You don't apologize for them." Steve had heard the line many times before, so it was easy for him to finish for her. The look she was giving him told Steve that Alana wasn't amused in the slightest. "Explain it to'em. You-"

"Ya know what, Steve?" Alana cut him off, "I'm actually pretty tired right now. I'm gunna take a nap, if you don't mind." He knew she was just getting rid of him; she knew he knew that too. The Captain narrowed his eyes, slowly getting off the bed and rising to his feet.

He crossed his arms over his chest, his head dipping towards her slightly, "You can't just run away from him. He's my friend, I just don't want you to hurt him more than you already have."

If Steve had thrown his shield at her chest Alana thinks that would've hurt less than the words he throws at her. The hurt shows clear across her face and in her eyes, so much so that Steve has to look away from her. She doesn't speak up until he's almost out of the room, "What about me?" She asks, her words sounding a lot more audacious than she feels, "Am I your friend, Rogers?"

He turns to look back at her, his gaze looking as old as he actually is, "I've gotta think about that one."

"Well," She tilted her head slightly, "If it means anything at all, I'd still take a bullet for you."

Steve didn't say anything in response before he walked out of the room, closing the door softly behind himself. She regretted asking him to leave only three minutes after he was gone. Alana wasn't tired in the slightest, if anything she was itching to get up and do something. Now she was stuck in bed with no one to keep her company. It wasn't that she was lonely – she didn't get lonely much nowadays – she was just left alone with her thoughts.

Alana briefly wished that Delta was there to keep her company, but Clint had told her they'd left the dog at Stark Tower. Pepper was watching him.

The mental picture made Alana grin slightly.

* * *

The darkness made her heartrate pick up. It was late and she hadn't thought about it until someone flipped the hallway light off, the glow that had seeped into the room underneath the doorframe disappearing.

Alana's mind instantly jumped back to the room Hydra had first kept her in. When they just started the new experiments. The dark, damp room in which she would be kept after they put her in the chair. After they'd put that helmet on her, sending shockwaves through her brain to test her limits, watching the activity as it spiked in certain areas of her head.

The helmet had covered her eyes; it was dark too.

It had felt like they were shocking the life out of her, and her hands began to sweat as she remembered that too. Those had been strapped down – her hands – for the safety of the doctors working with her. They always said with her, not on her.

"_Keep working with the asset." _Those were the words. She remembered all the words. All the codes, all the times they punched her, beat her, threatened her.

Alana's breathing had gotten faster, her chest constricting.

She wanted a light on, wanted out of the memories.

But she couldn't will herself to move, not even to reach up and flip a simple switch. She could take orders, she could lay out battle plans, she could carry out a flawless assassination.

She couldn't flip on a lamp.

Alana moved her arms to cover her head, startling herself when the IV tube touched her cheek. It made her panic, reminding her of the drugs they had pumped into her veins, and she ripped it out, throwing it into the wall. The sound of the needle hitting the wall seemed as loud as a bomb exploding in the silent room.

Her hands clutched to her head now, Alana leaning forwards and ignoring the feeling of blood dripping down her arm from where the needle had been. Her hip only mildly ached, the bullet wound itself now completely healed over.

She was only in that position for a minute, the sound of a lamp flicking on made her shoot to attention, her eyes swinging over to land on the silhouette that stood just inside the room. The light only illuminated half of his face, but she knew it was Bucky. The metal arm wasn't something she usually overlooked.

He closed the door behind himself, turning to look back at her. He didn't ask for permission, just walked forwards and sat in the nearby armchair that Clint had occupied earlier in the day.

His voice was guarded when he spoke, "Heard you throw the IV at the wall." He nodded towards the dangling object, drops of fluid hitting the floor in a steady rhythm. Bucky's eyes drifted to her arm, his lips pursing when he saw the blood.

Alana glanced at it too, quickly wiping it off her arm with her shirt. He found it easier to talk when she wasn't looking at him, "Steve said you didn't wanna see me." Her silence was in affirmation to his question. "Look, all I wanna know is why you got close to me when you got back. We're alone now, that's the only time you ever talk to me." The last line had a harsher tone to it, making her physically flinch.

She found it easier to talk without looking at him too, so they both starred down at their laps. "I'm selfish." He'd never heard her sound so small. "And I'm a coward. I always planned to go with the twins," Bucky's jaw clenched along with his metal hand, the mechanics whirring softly. "I didn't know if I'd die when the remote was destroyed, so I tried to keep my distance."

"That wasn't-"

"I know," She cut him off, "That wasn't keeping my distance but I couldn't help myself. I, the nightmares. And I couldn't sit there while you were in pain either,"

Bucky scoffed, "You stabbed me." When she didn't respond, Bucky thought he was just being ignored.

Until he heard he heard a rather ugly sounding sniffle come from her. His gaze rose to look upon her, finding Alana with a trembling jaw that she was desperately trying to keep still. She was failing on keeping back the tears.

In the back of his mind Bucky thought she deserved to feel bad. She deserved to be in this much pain because of what she put him through.

He felt like an asshole. Making a pretty dame cry.

He just sat and watched her pull herself together. "I had to finish my own mission." He could barely hear her, "Because if you couldn't get it out, couldn't shut off that piece'a fuckery that's in my head. What would stop them from making me their shitty little puppet again? I'd rather be dead."

"Al-"

"Asset 87, that's what they called me. Never by my name. And I did everything they told me too, without question. Because they threatened _you_. If it was anyone else, maybe I could've stood up to them. But not when they dangled you above my head," the words tumbled out of her mouth now, rolling over one another, "Said they'd bring you back in, wipe you again. '_He wouldn't remember you at all_' that's what they said. And I couldn't live with that, Bucky, I don't know why but the thought of you not knowing who I even was anymore was…" She trailed off, finding the courage to look up at him, "I wouldn't be able to live with that. So I would rather be dead. I didn't know what crushing that stupid remote would do, but it had to be done. Steve wouldn't let them try if there was a chance I would die."

They both were silent after that, Bucky not knowing what to say to her.

He understood some of what she said, he had been Hydra's puppet himself. But they had taken his memories. He hadn't consciously murdered people he had worked with, had cared about before. Bucky hadn't remembered he even had a name. He didn't know he'd had a choice to stand up to the doctors.

Thinking of it from that angle…Bucky couldn't imagine what it would be like.

And then she'd had to go on and mention that _he _was the main reason. Not Natasha, not Clint, not the team as a whole. He was her Achilles heel. Bucky didn't think he could ever forget her, couldn't imagine what his life would've been if anyone else but Alana had helped him find himself again.

When she went and spoke like that Bucky knew he could forgive her someday. But for now, he just didn't know how to voice any of that.

Alana too afraid to ask what he was thinking. Her mind went back to her dream. How vivid it had been, how _happy_ she had felt.

'_I love you'_. They were words she was too selfish to say.

As cliché as it was, Bucky Barnes was that missing piece of herself that Alana had lost years ago. She couldn't lose him, didn't want him to forget who she was. Because maybe, just maybe, there were a few good memories of her that he held close to him.

Though neither one of them had ever had a very good track record when it came to talking about feelings or relationships or forgiveness, so neither of them said anything about it.

"That blood should be properly cleaned up," He told her, nodding towards the still hanging needle, "And that should be back in your arm. I can get some supplies and do it." He was already standing up as he spoke. Alana noticed how his left side tightened, realizing quickly that he hadn't had anyone look at where she had stabbed him.

"Get a toolbox," She called out to him, Bucky now a few feet away, "I can fix up your arm."

It was one thing they both knew. They knew how to help each other survive.

* * *

The next morning Alana got out of bed, making her way down the hall before knocking on one of the wooden doors. It took a few moments for Steve to open the door.

Wordlessly, she held out a piece of folded paper to him. Steve's eyebrows came together as he carefully took it, sending her a confused glance before opening it.

Alana knew each word she had written down, watching Steve scan the page, his lips pursing together.

She had written it the night before, after she'd finished fixing the severed wiring in Bucky's arm. Undoing her own handiwork, seeing the damage she had dealt without a second thought, it had solidified her decision. In what she had told Natasha and Clint before; she couldn't live like this anymore.

'_To whom it may concern,_

_No one's told me who the Director is nowadays, but this'll get to you eventually. Captain, you get your own copy as well, seeing as we voted you head of our little assemblage. You know who I am, Alana Mercer, probably know more about me than I do. Over a decade ago I was recruited into S.H.I.E.L.D by Clinton Francis Barton. And today, (insert today's date, whenever you read it), I formally submit my impending resignation from STRIKE Team: Delta, and by extension, the Avengers Initiative. _

_ My active duty and on-call service to the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division will be terminated twenty-four hours after Ultron is destroyed. Due to recent events I believe that I am unable to continue my service due to both psychological injuries and personal biases. For the majority of my life I have held my head up high. I fought the fights that S.H.I.E.L.D chose me to go fight and I bear the scars of the repercussions of my own mistakes and imprisonments. I have done my time for this organization. _

_ Special Agent Brewster Alana Mercer.'_

The Captain folded the letter back up, looking at the woman who still stood before him, her hands clasped together behind her back. His mouth pressed into a thin line as he waved the letter slightly, "What'd you mean by personal biases?"

Alana answered smoothly, "I feel as though I would no longer be able to carry out orders without question. Without being distracted by whomever I was working with."

"You say that and then ask to still help destroy Ultron?" Steve looked down at her, his shoulders sagging, "How's that different?"

"Ultron's different. He's not just threatening a country; he's threatening the world. You're a crazy old man if you think I'm just going to stand by and do nothing." Steve was silent as he thought it over, weighing what he knew about her and what she had said. In his gut, he knew he could trust her. Despite everything. Maybe that made him crazy.

"You'd better get a suit, then." Her lips pulled up slightly, "Can't fight a war without a uniform." Alana let out a breathy chuckle, standing up a bit taller being raising her right hand in a salute.

"You've got it, Cap." It was Steve's turn to chuckle, but he saluted her back all the same.

"It's your last fight, make it count. Dismissed." Their hands dropped to their sides, Alana turned on her heel to make her way down the hallway. At the top of the stairs she turned back, catching Steve's eye as he still watched her from the doorway.

She smirked, "I doubt it'll be my last fight."

* * *

**Thanks for reading! I've got a great announcement, like you'll love it (hopefully)! Ready? Drum roll, wait for it, wait for it.**

**I've decided that my next story will be Alana/Bucky! I have it narrowed down to three different possibilities and I REALLY wanna know which one everyone likes more! Here they are:**

**ONE: A sequel to this story. (which only has two chapters left) There will be a slight time jump ahead and then pick up where everyone is. Unfortunately, it won't follow Civil War, since the movie hasn't come out yet so I don't really know the events for that and I will start publishing before it's released. There may not (or maybe there will be) too much action stuff going on, mostly just what Alana does now that she's no longer obligated to S.H.I.E.L.D.**

**TWO: Other idea, inspired by a scene from last chapter. It's a retelling of this story, but Alana never joined S.H.I.E.L.D. So you would get to see how she would've grown up if Clint had never brought her in. See what she got into and what happened to her. It really became a big idea when Clint wondered if she'd be better off today if he'd left her alone all those years ago. I don't wanna spoil the idea I have for that but she will end up interacting with everyone.**

**THREE: A Bucky/Alana AU where the story is set during WWII. The format would be a series of drabbles of the two of them, most likely this would only have around ten chapters. This one would be the most light-hearted of the three options.**

**I'll be changing the poll on my profile to options one, two and three, and if EVERYONE could vote that would be super awesome of you! One last thing, I really love reviews, I'm still messaging excerpts from the upcoming chapter if you leave one too! It may take a day or two for me to reply because, like, I've gotta write the excerpt first before I send it to you!**


	38. Chapter 37

**I'm so sorry. I've been gone for so long. I explain more at the end, but here's this chapter!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but Alana and the guilt I feel over not posting in so long….**

**;;;**

"_The moral of this story is that no matter how much we try, how much we want it...some stories just don't have a happy ending." -Jodi Picoult_

**;;;**

"Oh," Alana stopped in her tracks as she made her way downstairs later that evening, a hand poised on the banister. As usual, her presence alone grabbed everyone's attention. Clint's kids even stopped playing with their toys to watch Alana's eyes widen.

"Long time, no see Mercer." Nick Fury was probably the last person she had expected to see standing in the Barton's kitchen. His words seemed to break the trance she was in and Alana made her way all the way downstairs, a small grin on her face as Fury met her halfway, pulling the agent into a hug.

From the other side of the kitchen Tony elbowed Bruce in the ribs, speaking lowly under his breath, "Have you ever seen Fury hug anyone?" Bruce just shook his head.

S.H.I.E.L.D's ex-director pulled away from her, keeping one hand on her shoulder, "You doing okay?" his question was sincere. After working under him for nine years, she knew better than to lie to Fury.

"Been better." She tilted her head with a twist of her mouth, walking past him and taking a seat beside Natasha. Alana grabbed a piece of bread off one of the plates, stuffing it in her mouth. From the doorway, Steve grimaced at her manners.

Her eyes drifted around the room, noting that Laura, Clint, and their kids were all in the living room together; Tony had moved away from Bruce, leaving the scientist to attempt throwing darts with Bucky.

Alana and Bucky hadn't spoken to one another since the night before.

"You have any ideas on Ultron?" Alana folded her arms atop the table, watching as Nick stuffed his hands in his pockets, looking around at each Avenger as he spoke.

"Ultron, after you guys outta play to buy himself time." He started, Alana looking over at Lila as she jogged into the room. The little girl nudged Alana's arm, grabbing her attention before slipping a drawing in front of her.

"My contacts all say he's building something." The agent smiled, looking down at the butterfly picture before nodding to the girl. Lila beamed back at her before scurrying away again. "With the amount of vibranium he made off with, I don't think it's just one thing." Fury carefully placed his coffee mug in the sink before turning back around.

Steve's eyebrows were drawn together, arms crossed over his chest, "What about Ultron himself?"

"Oh, he's easy to track. He's everywhere. Guy's multiplying faster than a catholic rabbit." Alana let out a snort, earning a glance from Bucky, who was waiting for Tony to retrieve their darts from the board and go back to their throwing spot. "Still doesn't help us get an angle on any of his plans though."

The latter was the one to respond, "Still going after launch codes?" Tony threw one of the darts, glancing back at Bucky after, who was smirking at the missed shot.

"Yes he is," Fury continued, "But he's not making any headway." That got Stark's attention momentarily.

"I cracked the Pentagon's firewall in high school on a dare."

"Well, I contacted our friends at the Nexis about that."

"Nexis?" Steve and Bucky looked confused.

Bruce supplied the answer, "It's the world internet hub in Oslow." He looked down at his shoes, "Every bite of data flows through there, fastest access on Earth."

By then, Laura and the kids had gone upstairs, Barton twirling a dart between his fingers, "So what'd they say?"

"They're fixated on the missiles, but the codes are constantly being changed." Alana's gaze drifted between Tony – who now stood with his head directly in front of the dart board – and Clint. She made eye contact with the archer, giving him a humorous shake of her head.

"By whom?" Tony flinched backwards when Clint's dart flew inches away from his nose, hitting the bullseye perfectly. Stark threw him a look to which Clint just shrugged his shoulders.

"Party's unknown."

For the first time since she'd came downstairs, Bucky spoke up, "We have an ally?"

"Ultron's got an enemy," Fury corrected him, "That is not the same thing. And I'd pay folding money to know who it is."

"We might need to visit Oslow." Tony put in, "Find our unknown."

From beside Alana, Natasha let out a sigh, "Well, this is good times, boss, but I was kinda hoping when I saw you you'd have more than that."

"I do." Fury seemed surprised, or as surprised as Nick Fury ever seemed, "I have you." Nobody commented, "Back in the day I had eyes everywhere, ears, everywhere else. You kids had all the tech you could dream of." Alana remembered back when she first joined the Avenger's Initiative. How new everything seemed, how she didn't take a single moment of it for granted.

Things sure had changed since then.

"Here we all are, back on Earth. With nothing but our wit and our will, to save the world. Ultron says the Avengers are the only thing between him and his mission. And whether or not he admits it, his mission, is global destruction. All this," Alana looked around the room, her eyes meeting Clint's once before she looked away, "laid in a grave."

She glanced down at her hands, absently picking apart a slice of bread, "So stand. Outwit the platinum bastard."

Alana and Natasha shared a look before the younger of the two spoke up, "Steve doesn't like that kinda talk." She saw Bucky and Tony shake their heads in amusement as Steve leveled her with a gaze, a grin playing on his lips.

"You know what, Mercer?" Alana just smirked.

"So what does he want?" Fury continued. Alana looked back at the drawing Lila had given her. The butterfly.

"_A suit of armor around the world."_ Ultron's playback of Tony's words bounced through her head.

"A body." She said in revelation. Bruce was looking over her shoulder now, eyebrows drawn together.

"He's building bodies," Bucky pointed out, taking a few steps into the room more, "Hundreds of those robots."

'When you two programmed him to protect the human race you amazingly failed." Natasha glanced between Tony and Bruce as she spoke. Bruce Banner was still staring at the picture, a hand over his chin.

"They don't need to be protected," He thought aloud, and then he looked up at everyone, "They need to evolve." A weight settled in Alana's stomach, "Ultron's going to evolve."

"How?" Fury tilted his head slightly.

Banner looked around at everyone, "Has anyone been in contact with Helen Cho?" There was a beat of silence, Tony and Natasha looking between Alana and Steve.

"What?" Alana didn't understand the looks.

Steve Rogers spoke in an even voice, "I sent the twins to go check on her." Alana's hands clenched into fists before he had even finished his sentence, Natasha placing a hand on her friend's shoulder.

"You did _what?!_"

They hadn't reported back to Ultron following the previous battle. Ultron would find out they'd been in contact, he was everywhere, he was in the internet. Fear for their safety crept into her brain; fear and anger. She was furious that Steve sent them off without telling her, without first consulting with Alana.

"Alana," Steve said her voice softly in an effort to calm her down, "I'm in charge, I call the shots. They can get in and out of there the fastest. Ultron already trusts them."

"Wanda and Pietro are _my _responsibility!"

"It was their choice to make. I asked if they wanted to help. Both of them said yes." Alana had stood up from the table, a hand running through her hair once as she paced.

"If _anything _happens to either one of them."

"Agent Mercer," Alana's gaze snapped over to Fury, his arms crossed over his chest as he watched her, "If you were the one who trained them, they should be just fine." She knew not to argue with the man. Fury knew she would listen, and looked to Steve, "What're your orders, Captain?"

;;:::;;

It only took the team a few hours to formulate a plan and have everyone ready to go. Steve had his suit on, his shield strapped to his back as he ran through it again, "Natasha, Clint, and Alana are strictly recon,"

"I'll hit the Nexus joint as soon as I can." Tony nodded as he spoke.

"If Ultron's really building a body-"

"He'll be more powerful than any of us." Stark continued, "Maybe all of us. An android designed by a robot."

Steve sighed, glancing at Bucky as the ex-Hydra soldier came down the stairs, also suited up. "I really miss the days when the weirdest thing science created was me." Bucky cracked a grin at Steve's words.

"People thought he was _strange_." Bucky stopped beside Fury, watching the old director put on his coat.

"I'll drop Banner off at the tower," He looked to Tony, "Mind if I borrow Miss Hill?"

"She's all yours," Tony agreed before adding, "Apparently."

"What're you gunna do after that?" It was Bucky who asked, still trying to decide how he felt about Fury. He remembered being assigned to kill him, but not much else.

"I don't know. Something dramatic, I hope." Fury turned and walked out the door, leaving Bucky with raised eyebrows. He hooked his metal thumb in the direction Nick had gone.

"I like him."

;;::;;

"Have fun, boys." Steve cracked a grin as he and Bucky jumped out of the quinjet, leaving Clint, Natasha, and Alana on board. From her spot in the co-pilot seat, Alana watched the two World War II veterans make their way across the rooftop before Steve's voice crackled through her earpiece.

"Two minutes," There was a pause, Alana simply scanning the surroundings below before Steve's voice came again, "Doctor Cho!"

"Doctor says Ultron's uploading himself into the body," Alana and Natasha shared a look at Bucky's words, "Power's in some gem. It's in the cradle. Don't blow up that cradle."

"Copy that." Clint started to turn the jet around, looking towards the exit of the medical facility.

"Got a private jet taking off across town, no manifest." Natasha worked the controls directly behind Alana, "That could be him."

Alana shook her head, "There," She pointed out the window, "Truck from the lab."

"Buck?"

"Already on it." Alana watches as Bucky lands on top of the lab truck a moment later. He climbs across the top, moving to balance on the side. His foot slips from it's hold on the side, half of Bucky's body swinging away from the truck. "Shit!" Bucky's arm shoots out in time to grab a hold of the truck, the super soldier pulling him back onto the roof.

"Watch your language, Barnes!" Clint snaps, watching as Steve joins his comrade on the truck.

Alana keeps the quinjet's gun trained on the truck as Steve climbs around back, the truck door blasting out as soon as he tries to enter. "Well, he's definitely unhappy! I'm gonna try and keep him that way."

"You're no match for him, Cap."

"Thanks, Barton." Ultron blasts Steve again as he tries to enter the truck. As the robot is distracted, Bucky leans over the top, firing a few shots at the robot.

Back in the quinjet Alana straps a pistol to her side before climbing aboard a motorbike, Clint looks back at her from the pilot's seat, "We got a window." He smirks at her, lowering the jet's bridge. "Four, three…give'em hell."

Alana drops out of the Quinjet on the bike, racing towards the lab truck. She leans hard to the left, snatching Steve's shield as she speeds past and secures it to the front of the bike. Clint's voice is clear in her earpiece.

"They're heading under the overpass, I've got no shot."

"Which way?" Alana's voice is short and clipped as she weaves around the traffic.

"Hard right…now." As soon as she's turned Alana looks for the truck below her. She spots Bucky, making eye contact with him for a split second before throwing him the shield. Bucky tosses it to Steve, who uses it to knock Ultron off himself.

Alana continues chasing the truck on the bike, weaving through pedestrians as she goes. "Move it! Out of my way!"

"Can you guys get the guards out?" It's Bucky's voice that comes through next, his breathing labored as he fights the guards inside the truck.

"Let's find out." A few seconds of silence pass, "Tasha you find anything?"

"Where's Natasha?"

"Dropped her a few minutes ago." Alana shrugs, watching the Iron Legion leave the truck she speeds up, standing up on the bike for a second before leaping inside.

"Found the twins." Natasha's voice slips through, "Coming to you, old men."

Alana swears under her breath in the next second as she feels the truck being lifted into the air. "The package is airborne. I have a clean shot."

"Negative. I am in the truck."

"What the hell are you…?"

"Just get ready, it's coming to you."

"How do you want me to take it?"

"Uhhh, just be ready, this'll be fun."

"You're version of fun usually isn't," Clint's eyes widen when he sees what's happening, "Fuck! Alana!" The younger agent lands perfectly inside the Quinjet in the next second. "You're lu-" Clint's words die in his throat as the semi-truck explodes behind Alana, the blast pulling the her backwards. "Lana!"

"Take the cradle and get it to Stark." Steve's words leave no room for discussion.

"Do you have eyes on Alana?!" Clint's response is panicked, the archer glancing backwards as he still flies the jet forwards. "Any confirmation on Alana!?"

"Go, Barton!"

"I'll find'er Clint, get outta here."

;;;:::;;;

**The End.**

**Surprise? So I think an apology is in order. I haven't updated in like…months…like five months. I'm really sorry about that. College life caught up to me and I became super busy, not to mention a serious case of writer's block. I figured out why though, I tried following the movie exactly, which sucked the fun out of it. But lucky for you guys I fell off my horse two weeks ago and broke my ankle! Can I get a hooray for not being allowed to walk for six weeks!? Anyways I started reading fanfictions again and now have a ton of ideas for the sequel for this story…I just couldn't get a good ending for this one, so I decided to leave it with a cliff hanger and cut it shorter. I know, sucks I'm not writing through the whole battle but I was getting so bored with it and didn't know how to exactly tie Alana in and don't hate me but y'all will love the sequel, I promise.**

**Please please forgive me but the sequel will be up within a few days I PROMISE. Seriously I have nothing to do but write. And like I won't be able to ride a horse for at least three months so I've got lots of time. **

**As an apology gift I'll let you guys know that the sequel will be a continuation of this story with Bucky and Alana! **

**Please review, either to yell at me for my disappearing on you guys or to tell me how this chapter wasn't good (I'm not happy with it but god I need to post SOMETHING and wrap it up) or to say you liked it…maybe. Say anything you want I'll reply (I PROMISE THIS TIME I WILL)**


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